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ON 



FAITH. 



By Paul Brown. 



•'But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. 



PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR. 

1822. 



*>^ •***4 






DISTRICT OP COLUMBIA, TO \VJLT : 

*&t tt frmtmbmb, That on the twenty-sixth 
y.****Hof4**« ^ay of April in the year of our Lord, one thousand 
J ~ F , T | eight hundred and twenty-two, and of the inde- 
f "S pendence of the United States of America the for- 

~**&***&^ ty-sixth, Paul Brown, of the said District, has depo- 
sited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof he claims 
as proprietor in the words following*, to wit : 

A Disquisition on Faith. By Paid Bro-wn. " But if thine eye be 
evil, thy -whole body shall be full of darkness." 

In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, 
entitled " An act for the encouragement of learning, by secuiing 
the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the authors and pro- 
prietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned ;" — 
and also to the act entitled " An act supplementary to an act, 
entitled s An act for the encouragement of learning, by secuiing 
the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the authors and pro- 
prietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned,' and 
extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, 
and etching historical and other prints." 

In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand, and affixed 
tke public seal of my office, the day and year aforesaid. 

EDM. I. LEE, 
Clerk of the District of Columbia, 




Chapter. Page. 

I — Introduction 1 

II — Of faith in general, and how defined --"-;," ^ 
III -Of the several degrees of faith, according to probability 

and force of impressions 23 

IV — The question canvassed, whether faith is voluntary or 

involuntary - 32 

V — Whether there can be obligation of faith or not - - - 41 

VI — Whether faith can be a duty or not 45 

VII — Whether faith can be a virtue or the want of it a vice - 5l 
VIII — Whether a man can believe what he does not under- 
stand and cannot conceive 60 

IX — Query — Whether any evil consequence is to flow from 
the want of faith in those things which are beyond 
the verge of our influence; which, if we believed 
them we should have no more power to eschew or 

approach than if we disbelieved them 69 

X — Of the influence of passion on faith and probability - - 76 
\r_ t* ^flections on the influence a mistaken notion of faith 

^^as on civil society, by an advertence to the conse- 
uences that in several countries have followed cer- 
in ways of conceiving it 80 
the folly of referring* moral modes to rules and 
axims supported only by literary authorities, and 
which nave no evidence but what is drawn from tra- 
dition or ancient writing; and the absurdity of test- 
ing actions by such standards . . - 90 

Xm — Of solocisms, and contradictory propositions - - - 102 
XIV — Of vague and insignificant words used at random 

with pretence of great earnestness of intention - - 120 

XV— Of the use of faith - 126 

XV I — Of perversion or abuse of faith 131 

XVII— Of profession of faitli - 134 

XVIII— Ofcredulity 137 

XIX— Of enthusiasm - 130 

XX — Of the madness of demanding confessions of faith, and 

disclosures of what another secretly believes - - - 142 



IV 

XXI — Whether it be right on any occasion to deceive 
usurpers, and profess contrarily to what we really 
believe --. 146 

XXII — Query — Whether in regard to matters of faith, those 
were most deluded who made martyrs, or those who 
suffered martyrdom 149 

XXIII — Whether there be any such thing* real in the world 
as a determinate opinion or belief of a thing myste- 
rious, wherein divers persons unite 153 

XXIV — Of trivial propositions, which to believe or disbe- 
lieve, is useless 157 

XXV — Of the importance of protracting our deliberations, 

in matters of mere probability 160 

XXVI—Conclusion - - - - - 164 



A 



msQ,\3isiTiox ok TArra 



CHAPTER I 

Introduction. 



AMONG all the facts and contingences that are 
incidental to the human intelligence, there is no one 
circumstance that has excited so much concern, given 
rise to such a variety of questions, occasioned so many 
disputes, and been the cause of such memorable com- 
motions in the several communities of the world in 
every age of the history of mankind, as that particu- 
lar one which marks the acceptance or rejection of a 
proposition stated to the understanding of man, affirm- 
ing or denying something ; wherein men are said to 
believe or disbelieve, allow or disallow, acquiesce in 
or discard, what, though the certainty of it is con- 
fest to be unknown, they yet entertain in some set 
way in their speculations, upon which it has such or 
such a degree of efficiency and weight of influence, ac- 
cording to the estimate they, upon several occasions, 
are moved to give it. 

There is a peculiarity in this thing, that, either 
from an uncommon subtilty or evanescence, or else 
from its exquisite lines of resemblance it being fitted 
to dazzle and mislead by presenting uncertain and con- 
fused discriminations, it so falls out that men are ve- 
ry unsettled and discordant respecting its nature, of 



2 

which they are liable to conceive wrongly and va- 
riously, and are indeed so much deluded about it, that 
there are thousands of different inferences from it 
when, on various occasions, a notion of such sort has 
been assumed as a maxim ; and there are tons of lite- 
rary matter now abroad, whose whole worth, signiii- 
cancy, and even intelligibleness, rests merely upon 
some hasty, fantastical, false, and untenable notion of 
the nature of that thing which is called belief. 

It is, therefore, wwth while to search out the true 
powers of the set of words we employ to signify this 
sort of notions, what is or can be, meant by them, and 
endeavour to find the precise bounds of what we are 
capable of determinately comprehending, of this kind ; 
and of rej:>resenting so discriminately that different 
persons can coincide in the conception. This is the 
principal scope of the present undertaking. This in- 
quiry is rather philological than physical. It is not 
an investigation of the nature of substances ; the scope 
is not to develope any new property of substantial ex- 
istence, not hitherto recognized, nor to prove such ex- 
istence : but is concerned altogether with the propriety 
of the application of signs and of the forming of com- 
plex notions or ideas to be denoted by certain general 
words which, though very generally used, are not of 
wry clear, conspicuous, and decided import, as seen 
in different discourses and heard from the mouths of 
the commonalty. For there is no question whether 
there is such a condition of the human mind as that 
which it is in at the moment when, a proposition being 
stated to it, it perceives more or less fully and deter- 
minately the ideas which the words contained in that 
proposition stand for, and embraces or rejects it : but 
in regard to that arbitrary action of the mind of man 
by w T hich is determined the extent of certain select 
combinations of particular or elementary ideas, that 
are to be denoted by certain general terms, there may 
be a question how many particulars, and of what sort, 






are included in that which was originally, and is now 
most generally limited, to he denoted by the word 
assent, or the word faith. There may arise, also, se- 
veral particular questions about these things. 

People of a certain class define faith in a way that 
may be deemed anomalous, though extensively receiv- 
ed without examination. They include in their defi- 
nition the idea of voluntary exertion ; and go to per- 
suade people they have at their option to believe or 
disbelieve. If when men first took into their heads 
to form or make out a complex notion and attach it to 
some certain word by which they consented in the 
design to have it uniformly denoted, such as a word 
answering or equivalent to our English word faith, 
belief, or assent, (which is a thing that would be found 
signally useful in the purposes of their intercourse, 
where there were frequent occasion to bring up such or 
such notices, in the process of their dealings or investi- 
gations,) they included in it the idea of voluntary exer- 
tion, and determined some degree of this sort of move- 
ment, such, at least, as incipient volition, should make 
an essential part of that notion — as if they should have 
said, the perception of the terms of a proposition, and 
a desire that it be received as true, and that the avouch- 
er of the doctrine prosper and succeed well in the de- 
sign of propagating it, shall constitute what shall be 
meant and purported by this word — and he, therefore, 
that has a proposition or contexture of propositions 
presented clearly to his understanding, and he sincere- 
ly wishes that it were true, and wishes well to the 
party who delivers it, has then what is called faith — he 
believes that proposition or contexture of proposi- 
tions — he is a believer to all intents and purposes of 
the significancy of this word; then, allowing no tho- 
rough change of the language having come about, the 
word retained its office in general customary use — it 
would be very proper to use the word in that sense 
now. This would be the propriety of its signification. 



But whether any one who is not a partizan, or acces- 
sary to the views of a party, uses it in such a sense, 
and whether there are not multitudes of seriously stu- 
dious persons who' apply it to a quite different use, 
and wholly exclude from their idea of its meaning all 
notice of voluntary action, considering it a circum- 
stance utterly removed from volition, are questions 
that with great confidence may be brought up, upon 
the occasion of diversifying this significancy ; the way 
of settling w T hich, will give rise to one or two others ; 
such as, for instance, what is the meaning of an insin- 
cere profession of faith, in the case when a person 
declares, with all the marks of sincerity, that such or 
such a statement (having been made to him) may prove 
true, wishes well to the person who avouches it, de- 
sires others will receive it ; and at the same time, with 
no less indication of sincerity, declares he hisself can- 
not believe it, has doubts of it, and has not faith ? 
What can be the meaning of insincere, when, in such 
a case as this, a man is accused of insincerity of pro- 
fession in regard to belief — of not believing what he 
does believe, or believing to be not true what in his 
heart he actually believes to be true ? 

Besides investigating the nature of faith, we shall 
have occasion to reflect on the influence several ways 
of handling this idea have had on the affairs of human 
society : for if one man has esteemed faith a volunta- 
ry act and a duty, another a necessary act, and another 
no act at all ; and if of those who have taken it to be 
voluntary, one has entertained a direct contrary be- 
lief to that of another, there has been fighting between 
people on account of this very thing ; and different 
persons have fought and several have been killed, on 
account of some secret belief one has suspected to be 
in another. 

It is of important use, then, to determine the pro- 
per estimate of this thing ; and consider what con- 
nexions give it its weight and moment. For, whereas 



the belief of some propositions has great consequence 
in our thoughts and lives ; others yet are trivial, and 
whether we believe them or not, is indifferent. It 
will make a part of the business of the following dis- 
course to canvass several questions concerning the in- 
fluence and uses of faith, and the effects of different 
ways of defining it, as well as those which concern its 
nature. 

Some other considerations about faith, may be wor- 
thy of our attention, in their due places — such as the 
phenomena of its effects in its connection with parti- 
cular sorts of objects, or in certain instances of it. 

Let the reader bear in mind, if we can ascertain 
and determine what shall be meant by the word faith, 
we can readily discover how far we are capable of that 
thing which we call by that name; and also learn 
what are its proper objects. 



CHAPTER II. 

Of Faith in general. 



t ? HEN the understanding of man is presented 
with a proposition setting forth the existence of things 
whereof it has no experience, it immediately exercises 
an act or emotion with respect to that proposition, 
wherein it acquiesces in that proposition or does not 
acquiesce in it. This acquiescence or not acquies- 
cence, is only a particular entertainment the mind 
gives that proposition at once. But the act of the un- 
derstanding, (if such it is to be called,) wherein its 
acquiescence or not acquiescence is implied, is called 
assent or dissent. Although the effect exhibited by 
the understanding's notice of a proposition is repre- 
sented by a word that is expressive of a free volunta- 
1* 



,. 



ry action ; yet it is no more than an act of necessity. 
The act of acquiescence in a proposition, called assent- 
ing to it,- or of its rejection of it, is a necessary act. 
The mind is passive in respect to the effect a propo- 
sition thus proposed to its view, produces in it : and 
although we say the understanding performs an act in 
regard to such proposition, yet, more strictly perhaps 
to speak, it only receives an imjiression from it, and 
a certain change in its train of thought ; which, in the 
way, produces some emotions either slight or energet- 
ic, pleasant or unpleasant. If the proposition excites 
assent, the operation it brings about has greater ener- 
gy in it than when it does not produce assent : for in 
this latter case, the mind barely does not view it as a 
veritable one, and perceives that it does not agree w r ith 
what it has experienced and known : wherefore it is 
not likely to produce much emotion of any kind. 
Whereas, if acquiescence follows the presentment, it 
receives an accession to its opinions, which may influ- 
ence, more or less, the voluntary thoughts and mo- 
tions of the persons to whom such proposition is ex- 
hibited. The emotion itself is governed by the nature 
of the proposition. If it be a pleasing report, and 
is believed, it produces joy and complacency. If an 
unpleasant one, and is believed, it produces the con- 
trary emotions. A proposition is a contexture of signs, 
determinately representing several ideas experienced 
by the relater and the hearer, and affirming or denying 
certain things to exist or to have existed : and a pro- 
position being presented to the understanding, implies 
that the understanding to wdiich it is presented, has 
previous knowledge of the import of those signs. For 
if the proposition consist of any thing more than mere 
sounds, it cannot be said to be presented to the under- 
standing, unless the understanding perceives it : that 
is, perceives some determinate ideas, by virtue of 
something designed to represent them. This I speak 



after the manner of the world, on the principle that 
propositions are conveyed by articulate sounds. 

Thus, in this particular condition, that of a proposi- 
tion coming within the notice of the understanding,— 
with respect to any exertion or operation in reference 
to that proposition, we are all necessary agents. When 
a proposition is presented to the understanding, it ac- 
quiesces in it or does not acquiesce in it. At the in- 
stant a proposition is perceived and apprehended by it, 
it must of necessity either assent to or dissent from it. 
When I am told that a vessel has at a certain time 
sunk, sixty miles at sea, I can no more avoid either be- 
lieving or disbelieving it than, when my eyes are open, 
I can avoid seeing the rays of the lamp that is actually 
before me. Admit I believe it : yet, after further in- 
quiry concerning the thing, I may have attained such 
discoveries of the grounds that this proposition rests 
upon, as make so complete a revolution in my views, 
that I can no more avoid disbelieving it. Or, on the 
contrary, my discoveries may be such as to confirm 
and make my belief stronger, and approach nearer to 
perfect assurance. Signs are of two sorts : 

First— Sufch as we use to denote ideas that we have 
in our minds, to other intelligent creatures who can 
have no actual aspection of them : such as 

1. Articulate sounds, called words ; 

2. Characters and marks impressed on sensible sur- 
faces, which are mostly called words, being the im- 
mediate signs of words : though what are called 
hieroglyphics have formerly been much in use for 
this purpose, and some nations make use of them 
at this day. In these the colour is sometimes made 
to signify something. These are emblematical re- 
presentatives of the things to which we refer, and 
each has the power of signifying an intire idea ; 
whereas it often requires several words ; 



8 

3. Those artful turns and changes in movement, we 
employ to signify ideas, without any sounds or cha- 
racters, commonly called gesture or action, in ora- 
tory ; but they are used where sounds could do no 
execution at all, as in conversing w T ith deaf people. 
All these are called signs of ideas. But those which 
are far most common and extensively used, are words, 
either spoken, or represented to the eye. 

Secondly — Ideas are called signs : i. e. signs of things 
really existing, separate from, and independent on 
the mind. So a proposition may be either verbal or 
mental. It may be delivered to me by another, 
through the instrumentality of words, either orally or 
by written or impressed tokens of them on paper, 
so that I shall receive the first notices of it from my 
ear or eye ; or it may be suggested to me by any of 
my trains of thought, either those of imagination, me- 
mory, or volition ; in this latter case, it is a purely 
mental proposition. And when one distinctly per- 
ceives any number of determinate ideas represent- 
ing the existence of things without — sufficient to pre- 
dicate one thing of another, and that seem fit to be 
joined or disjoined, and that therefore are joined or 
disjoined, then is a proposition presented to his under- 
standing. The result is a necessary effect, which, by 
whatever name it is commonly called, is the designed 
object of our meditation at this time. 

It will scarce be denied, that some consequence 
does follow, and some impression is made on the mind, 
which is some change either temporary or lasting, 
small or great, that takes place in the operations that 
are going on there : and, for a general name, it may 
aptly enough be called acquiescence or not acquies- 
cense ; assent or dissent. By other words, this effect 
produced in the understanding of mankind by the pre- 
sentment of a proposition, is called belief or disbelief. 
Sometimes belief is called faith ; which can primarily 
mean nothing but assent, though in process of usage, 






something else is tacked to that idea, y. g. some moral 
quality or incident, as confidence, patience, or some- 
thing else ; and faith is made to signify a compounded 
idea of various sorts of things, or else used sometimes 
to signify one idea and sometimes another. 

This is the way we are apt to talk of assent or faith, 
or rather of that state of mind, whatever it is made up 
of, or is most distinguished by, which follows the no- 
tice of an assertion, either express or tacit ; when, led 
by the clue of our natural light and use of our facul- 
ties according to common reasoning, we would talk 
impartially. But whether this thing I have been men- 
tioning, be precisely that which the bulk of those who 
speak of the subject constantly and unitedly signify 
by any of these words — faith, assent, belief, disbelief, 
or the like — is a question not easy to answer, because 
many words are vaguely applied. Yet, if I choose to 
use one of these words for the signifying of this idea, 
and I give notice of my intention, I suppose I have a 
right to do so. 

There is a question whether faith is an operation or 
not : whether it can correctly be called an act, even 
excluding the idea of voluntary effort. Action may 
precede and follow ; but whether, in itself, faith has 
any glimpse of action of any sort, or not, is a question. 
Although we are apt to suppose faith to be an opera- 
tion, it is rather a varied condition, posture, condi- 
tional attitude, of the mind, made up of relation to 
other things, wherein is a reference to a definite propo- 
sition, and to the previous condition of the mind, 
wherefrom it is shifted. With respect to the proposi- 
tion, it acquiesces in it and entertains it with a view 
of the likeliness of the asserted habitude of its terms or 
parts : and with respect to the other, it has not the same 
view of the contrary proposition, but sees it with a dif- 
ferent degree of probability than it had in view before. 
It is a circumstance that is inseparably attendant on the 
perception of a preponderance or a balance of probabili- 



10 

ifi This is all that this accident of mind consists in, 
whether we call it assent or acquiescence. We say it is 
grounded on probability : which it is no otherwise than 
as the idea or view or discovery of the appearance of 
a certain measure or degree of probability ; or, that 
appearance cannot be, but that this instantaneously en- 
sues. I say varied condition, for these reasons ; 

1. There is a necessary change supervening to our 
intellectual affairs immediately consequent to a new 
proposition being disclosed to view, and thus the con- 
dition of the mind is varied from what it was. 2. There 
are several degrees of stability and determinateness to 
our entertainment of a proposition with acceptance, 
from which we are liable to waver more or less — and 
the view of it is generally liable to be varied by suc- 
cessive discoveries. 

The word faith has had various meanings, and has 
now at this day. Sometimes it denotes veracity, 
sometimes trustiness, sometimes fidelity and constancy 
in the serving of one's interest to whom there is an 
attachment or engagement. But I think the word 
more frequently is applied to the idea of credence giv- 
en to propositions concerning things very remote 
from our exploration. Sometimes hope is joined to 
belief to make up an idea that is to be signified by 
this word. — But what I call faith, is the condition of 
mind in which it assents to a proposition : in describing 
which condition, several particular incidents are to be 
noted. Here I use faith as a general term, compre- 
hending all degrees and varieties of favourable and 
complacent entertainment of a proposition fairly un- 
derstood : for when a proposition is not understood, 
it does not seem to be exhibited and proposed to the 
understanding at all. Whether the proposition comes 
from heaven or earth, by means of words written or 
spoken ; through the senses ; or from the thoughts of 
a man's own heart ; and whatever the proposition be, 
whether of things remote or near, past, present, or fu- 






11 

ture, visible or invisible ; a certain effect follows the 
recognition of it in his consciousness, and this effect, if 
it be not knowledge, is constituted of certain relations 
or habitudes of things perceived or supposed, where- 
upon if the mind acquiesce in or accept the proposi- 
tion to the rejection of the contradictory one, or does 
not acquiesce in or accept the contradictory one to the 
rejection of this, — this posture of mind in reference to 
the given proposition, I call faith. 

That complex notion to which I assign this word 
faith, as an abstract term, is made up out of the follow- 
ing constituent ideas : 

1. The perception of a proposition stated for accept- 
ance. 

2. The perception or idea of the exact contrary pro- 
position. 

3. The peculiar relation existing between the pre- 
vailing notices of the mind resulting from its usual 
experience, and one of these propositions. 

4. Peculiar relation between the same subject and 
the other proposition ; which is the same as the rela- 
lation of the other proposition to the state of the 
mind immediately previous to a perception of it. — 
For the relation of a proposition to the state of 
mind from ivhich it is changed by the introduction 
of this proposition, must be one and the same thing 
w r ith a relation of the contradictory proposition to 
the state of the mind to ivhich it is changed by in- 
troduction of this proposition. 

These constitute what I denote by the word faith. 

The parts of a proposition are called terms. They 
are signs. They consist of ideas or words, or both. 
If the proposition is verbal, i. e. stated by words, 
a word is called a term inclusive of w r hat it re- 
presents. If without words, the terms are ideas only. 
The terms of a proposition are the principal parts of 
it : — as the thing of which any thing is affirmed or de- 
nied, and the thing affirmed or denied of it, are called 



12 

terms. One is called the subject ; the other the pre- 
dicate. That which has any thing affirmed or denied 
of it, is the subject 5 and that which is affirmed or de- 
nied of it, is the predicate. For example — God is love. 
God is the subject, and love is the predicate : because 
the idea we denote by the word love, is affirmatively 
predicated of that we denote by the word God : for 
they are but ideas by which one is affirmed of another, 
and it means only that the idea of love is contained in 
the idea of God. Not that it is a trifling proposition 
importing that, of two words one idea may be signi- 
fied by either, they being of the same meaning, — such 
as rouge is red, Dick is Richard, &c. but that the idea of 
God is a complex idea representing a real being which 
has several properties, and the quality or affection named 
love, makes a part of it. This is more perspicuous- 
ly explicable when adjective-words are employed in 
affirmations. When one idea is affirmed of another, 
one of them must be a complex idea, and the other, if 
it be complex, must be less in its extent. But when 
one is denied of the other, they may be both simple 
ideas : as white is not red. To form a proposition, 
signs must be joined or disjoined. The terms must 
be joined or disjoined ; the other signs are used instru- 
mentally in this purpose. This is affirming or deny- 
ing. By joining we affirm, and by disjoining we de- 
ny. And when signs joined or disjoined are stipu- 
lated to a rational mind, in affirmation or negation, as 
fit objects to be accepted or rejected, either acceptance 
or not acceptance instantaneously follows. If the stipu- 
lation be accepted, and admitted with satisfaction, the 
mind's acquiescing in it, I call faith, of some degree. 
If this takes place, it is because, what ? — because the 
mind has a view of a likeliness to agree — i. e. what arc 
so proposed, to agree or disagree as stated ; and like- 
wise in conformity to the like agreement or disagree- 
ment in the reality of things existing, if the proposi- 
tion relate to things without. Likeliness to agree or 












13 

disagree, or likeliness to be true, is satisfactorily assum- 
ing things to agree or disagree, when their agreement 
or disagreement is not perceived, either intuitively or 
traced through intervening connexions which gradually 
show it with certainty, but though it cannot be per- 
perceived at all, is presumed to be in the original re- 
alities these ideas represent : and therefore these are 
accepted as agreeing or disagreeing in the manner 
they are joined or disjoined, though apparently they 
do not perfectly. No matter whether this joining or 
disjoining is done by a separate person who relates me 
something to be believed, or by myself. I can make 
a proposition to myself. I immediately admit it, or 
do not. I admit that it may be true, and therefore give 
it some degree of assent ; or else I totally reject it and 
deny it ; and adhere with a strong degree of assent to 
the contrary side of the question. There is a percep- 
tion of a proposition and a simultaneous cognition of 
certain relations it has in a separate reference to other 
things distinct from itself, — as, to the train of our usual 
experience ;— -a relation, also, to the previous posture 
of the mind and to another proposition : these percep- 
tions and different relations, being crouded into a mo- 
ment of time, constitute the general phenomena of the 
condition of mind we are discoursing of. If these re- 
lations be such as indicate agreement to the reality of 
things, they are a strong foundation of faith, which 
thereupon is firmly established. 

Such is the sort of notion I use this word to indi- 
cate : that is to say, as a general or abstract term sig- 
nifying something whereof may be degrees and varie*- 
ties. This appears to me to be what takes place in our 
intellectual concerns, when, a statement of something 
whereof we have not certain knowledge and perhaps 
cannot attain, coming to view, we are said to credit, 
believe, or presume it to be proper and real rather than 
inconsistent, absurd, fallacious, or fantastical. 
2 



14 

The word faith is supposed to come originally from 
i Greek word signifying to persuade. That which, 
in the Latin language, answers to this word faith, is 
Jides. The French use the word foi for a similar 
purpose. The Italian language has it fede ; and the 
Spanish fe. 

But whether either of these words as used by these 
different nations, signified precisely the same idea that 
I signify by the word faith, or as any class of men 
have ever signified by it, is a thing not to be proved 
by translators. 

When we indubiously perceive the agreement or 
disagreement of any ideas, we have knowledge : and 
that, whether we perceive this, by intuition, directly ; 
_or by the agreement or disagreement of ideas which 
intervene between such ones as cannot be immediately 
compared together : in one case it is called intuitive 
knowledge ; and in the other demonstrative knowledge. 
In these cases we have certainty. We clearly per- 
ceive the agreement or disagreement, either mediately 
or immediately. This is superior to faith. Where 
we have knowledge we have no need of faith : but 
when we have no knowledge we have nothing better 
than faith for our guide. Where we have not this 
clear perception of agreement or disagreement, but 
only take it to be, without experiencing it, we have on- 
ly faith. An idea may be fantastical or real : that is, 
it may have a pattern in nature or it may not. Thus, 
the idea of a goose is a real idea ; but the idea of a 
centaur is a fantastical idea. There is a question in 
cases of ideas joined in proposition, when they agree 
satisfactorily, whether they agree according to the 
agreeing of the things they represent. If they repre- 
sent nothing, this reference is futile : for although 
there is no inconsistency in saying a centaur is covered 
with red hair, and these two terms will agree ve- 
ry well in our ideas, yet,— where is any thing expe- 
rienced in nature to which to refer them, as a stan'd- 






ard to determine whether their agreement is such as 
that of things which they represent ? Words are indif- 
ferent to any ideas. Men may accustom themselves 
to join almost any ideas ; and scarcely any, when they 
are inured to connect them without examination, will 
appear incongruous. But we look beyond, to what we 
have experienced in nature, independent of this or that 
statement, compatible with the truth of it. When it 
is said, paper is not parchment, I clearly see the dis- 
agreement of the terms : I have knowledge : absolute 
and real knowledge : for, having experienced the re- 
ality of what is declared, I know it to be a fact that it 
is so in nature : that they are two distinct species of sub- 
stance, of which one does not comprehend the other. 
The same may be said of the proposition, a triangle 
is not a colour. Here, likewise, I have certain know- 
ledge and immediate perception of the disagreement. 
— This is a proposition that conveys knowledge, also. 
But if I am told a rattlesnake bit my dog as he was 
hunting in a wood a mile distant out of my view, I 
certainly have no knowledge of the reality of this 
agreement of the ideas joined ; — I can have nothing 
but faith. This is a proper object of faith. Imme- 
diately I assent to it or disbelieve it. If I receive the 
proposition as true, I do so because I conceive of a 
likeliness that the stated apposition and agreement is 
conformable to the existing fact ; and, therefore, pre- 
sume it to be so. This is evidence. Likeliness to be true, 
is evidence. It depends principally on conformity to 
our customary experience. A person must place his 
assent or faith according to the evidence present to hLs 
conception. The preponderance of evidence carries 
with it the concession of credence. What appears 
evident to me to-day, may not appear so to-morrow ; 
insomuch that the very contrary may appear most evi- 
dent. On the other hand, what appears not evident 
to me to-day, may to-morrow appear very evident, 
and the contrarv be whollv denied. 



10 

If it be asserted, gold is yellow, the purport is, the 
idea of yellow agrees with the idea of gold : (but how 
can it agree with the idea of gold any other way than 
making a part of it ?) and hereof I have a full percep- 
tion : I know these ideas to agree ; for the idea of yel- 
low makes a part of my complex idea of gold : I have 
experienced by my senses that the thing which goes 
by the name gold, has the properties and power to ex- 
cite in me these perceptions whereof yellow is one. 
Therefore I know this proposition to be true. I have 
knowledge of this. Likewise I know it to be real, so 
far as it has any concern w T ith real ideas, because I have 
experienced these things separately from this state- 
ment. But if a person should report to me Green- 
wich is five miles from London, — the words purport 
this — the idea of five miles agrees with the idea of 
the distance of space between those two places, Green- 
wich and London. Here I have no certainty that 
these ideas are real ; having no experience of those 
places, to assure me there are such in the world. 
Equality to five miles must enter into the idea of in- 
tervening space, on a single line, between those two 
places. I must look beyond these ideas, to real exist- 
ence. Here I have no knowledge : no perception of 
real agreement, nor the propriety of this joining of 
signs. It is only an object of faith. I believe it or 
do not believe it. Allow I believe it, — I do so be- 
cause for several reasons it appears more likely to be 
true than not ; and although I have no experience of 
the places nor of measuring the space mentioned ; yet 
all the considerations that induce my assent, may re- 
solve themselves into a conformity to my experience ; 
for it may be conformable to my experience that the 
person who relates this fact, usually makes veritable re- 
ports. The abundance of concurrent testimony may 
add weight to his in this particular ; I having read or 
heard from numerous others the very same statement; 
and it is comformable to my experience that multi- 



17 



tudes do not concurrently testify falsely things of this 
nature. This, therefore, is a fit object of faith. It 
brings no knowledge ; but opinion only. 

Let us suppose an example of a proposition made- 
to one to whom the terms are familiar, and who is 
competent to consider the several circumstances that 
make for its likeliness or unlikeliness : such as, Eng- 
land has declared war against America* Here it 
is supposed there are certain determined ideas under- 
stood to be conveyed and meant by these expressions, 
England (or the rulers of England) — declaring war, 
— and America. A reflective conception or idea of 
the very contrary proposition, naturally arises — Eng- 
land has not declared war against America. Thus 
these two perceptions will be objects of his under- 
standing — England has declared war against America. 
England has not declared war against America. 

In the tenour of the mind's reflections or views, is a 
prevailing currency of experience, including the res- 
pects of other ideas it is accustomed to. There is a 
certain relation or habitude between this, and one of 
the propositions ; and a certain relation or habitude 
between it and the other proposition. To one it may 
be that of agreement ; and to the other, disagreement. 
He will at once assent to the one, and dissent from the 
other ; or he will assent to the one so far as to doubt 
of its falsehood, and doubt of the truth of the other. 
For if he disbelieves England has declared war against 
America, he must believe England has not declared 
war against America. And if he doubts that England 
has declared war against America, he must doubt of 
the truth of the other proposition, that England has 
not declared war against America. Also, if he sur- 
mises England has declared war against America, he 
must of course conceive of a proportionably less degree 
of probability in the contrary assertion. If he believes 
one, he must at the same time disbelieve the other. 
He cannot believe one without disbelieving the other: 



18 

and he cannot doubt of one, without doubting of the 
other. Yet, at the very first impression he must give 
the preference to one or the other. But these relations 
are continually liable to be varied by deliberation,. in 
most cases, till conclusively established by a thorough 
discussion. These appearances are almosti nstantaneous. 
A multiplicity of them seems to take place in almost 
no time. The succession of men's intellectual acts, 
has, on many occasions, a rapidity that is scarcely 
conceivable. Hence the nicety of analyzing the func- 
tions of mind. 

Thus, the man to whom this statement is made, will 
have faith in one or other of the propositions ; but it is 
not noticed unless it be in favour of the proposition 
first advanced. What is stated and first related, is 
used to determine whether a man has faith or is an un- 
believer ; although he may at the same time have 
faith in that tacit proposition which denies it. You 
complain of my want of faith, and do not consider that 
although I believe not precisely the same proposition 
that you believe, yet I believe different ones, nay, 
even the very contrary proposition to that which }^ou 
believe, and, if the truth is to be known, I have as 
much faith as you have. This is the state of faith. 
Such is the plight of soul, which goes under the gen- 
eral word faith. 

Supposing this definition of faith to be accepted, at 
least granted that it is my use of the word ; let us, to 
avoid obscurity, recapitulate the several component 
articles of which we compound this notion ; and ex- 
plain them more fully. 

In assigning four parts to the comprehension of this 
general idea, I would be understood as considering 
them predicamental ones. 

The essential parts of this idea are these four : 
I. Perception of a certain proposition exhibited to the 
mind, for its acceptance. This perception of a pro- 
position is considered to include a notice of the pre- 






19 

bable agreement or disagreement of its terms. A 
proposition consists of signs joined or separated, to 
affirm or deny something. These either appear to 
agree when joined, or not to agree ; and they appear 
to disagree when disjoined, or not to disagree. It 
may be verbal or mental, and relate any of a varie- 
ty of subjects, not of certain knowledge, but un- 
known ;— it may be conveyed by words or any 
other outward signs, or it may be brought up in the 
course of our voluntary thinking. But we consi- 
der it without regard to words. All that belongs 
to a proposition according to its purport, so far as 
. apprehended, is supposed to be taken into this per- 
ception of a proposition. The proposition, when 
speaking of this case, is admitted to be of that pe- 
culiar kind, which is neither demonstrable nor self- 
evident, nor declarative of things immediately be- 
fore the senses, but a subject of probability, and a 
proper object of faith, though not of knowledge. 
II. Perception of a proposition which is the reverse 
of this that is stipulated or exhibited.— This maybe 
called a conception. The idea is purely reflective. 
It is a natural result of the propounding of the other, 
by which it is, as it were, elicited ; perhaps as ne- 
cessary as the rebounding rays of light by physical 
reflection m a course contrary to their first emana- 
tion.— Some may doubt whether it be a neces- 
sary effect when one is informed there was an 
earthquake at Havana last iveek, that he imme- 
diately thinks of the contrary— there ivas not an 
earthquake at Havana last we**,— or when told 
Spain has ceded Florida to America, he directly 
trunks Spain has not ceded Florida to America 
Hut the quickness of thought often deceives us ; yet 
where is any deliberation, this plainly appears : and 
it seems reasonable to expect this as an invaria- 
ble result of propounding any statement, that the 



20 



negative or affirmative or whatever contradicts it, 
shall be instantly contrasted with it. 

III. A relation or habitude of the given proposition to 
the prevailing conscious experience of the mind. 
The mind has certain reflections and reasonings to 
which it is habituated, arising from its recollections 
of past experience, as well as from imagination and 
sensation. This comprehends the idea of likeliness to 
agree with the reality of things, applied to the pro- 
position, or of unlikeliness to agree. Towards this 
state of the mind, depending altogether upon sepa- 
rate principles, the newly stipulated proposition has 
a certain aspect. It may be that of agreement or 
conformity, and if so, there is what is said to be ac- 
quiescence and admission, and a readiness to pre- 
sume upon the agreement or disagreement not 
known: but if it be such as repugnance and non- 
conformity, there arises displacency, and dissent. 

IV. A relation or habitude the contrary proposition 
has to the prevailing experience of the mind, or, in 
the common expression, to the mind. This denial 
or contradiction of the proposition, holds its peculiar 
relation, also, with the same thing as the other does. 
It may be of agreement or of disagreement : i. e. it 
may show the probable disagreement of the signs 
as disjoined, or agreement as joined. This were 
perhaps as correctly termed relation of the present 
to the previous state of the mind from which it is 
shifted by the perception of a proposition : for, with 
regard to that proposition, we can realize nothing 
there, more than a want of agreement and acqui- 
escence. Yet for our present purpose, it may be as 
useful to arrange it in this point of view. 

These relations hold the same proportion to each 
other at the moment of the first impression, and when 
the opinion has been settled by fair investigation. But 
when deliberation or suspense interpose, the case is 
different. 






21 



In these two different relations subsists the very first 
principle and foundation of all the degrees of proba- 
bility. For they are liable to fluctuate and to be va- 
ried progressively by deliberation, study, contempla- 
tion, reading, observation, and intercourse. 

Thus then it is seen these heads are predicamental, 
and compounded of several different particulars, of 
which, a variety may agree to the general discrimina- 
tions, to constitute any definite case : out of these consi- 
derations is composed that which I deem to be justly 
called faith. It may be observable that when speak- 
ing of faith we do not consider all these particular 
views, but only that signal circumstance, acquiescence 
of the mind in a certain proposition, in preference to 
another ; — but this cannot be without a view of these 
relations : these are what necessarily attend it ; with- 
out which it could not be what it is. Such is the gen- 
eral prospect before the mind in this attitude. 

If what has been here said concerning faith be cor- 
rect, it may give rise to several remarks ; particularly 
that faith is a private possession of the mind, and is some- 
thing that has place within a man's own breast, whol- 
ly secret from his fellow beings, and can no more be 
made appear without external signs than any of his 
ideas. 

It is even more secret than our passions. It has not 
those external indications which mechanically an- 
nounce our emotions and passions whether we will or 
not. You cannot see my faith in my countenance or 
complexion as you can my anger. There is scarcely 
a greater secret than naturally this is. You may re- 
late a particular serious account of things surmised or 
generally credited. I may believe it or disbelieve it. 
You see me listen to it with silent attention. Whether 
I believe it or not, is a secret beyond your line. 
Whilst I hearken, peradventure I have genuine faith 
m what is delivered : yet you discover no change in 
my countenance.— You mav ask a man whether he 






22 

fcas faith or not, in a given proposition. It is always a 
bold question ; and, in many cases, a very idle one. 
It is a freedom that is admissible between intimate 
friends ; and is very proper for fair disputants, who 
set out honestly and impartially to try their powers 
of reasoning, upon any question, where one may find 
the other's belief concerning some other subject, a ne- 
cessary article in forming an argument ; but then it 
should be an adopted rule in which they should con- 
sent, that each should consider himself bound to make 
unreserved declarations in answer to such question ; 
otherwise it should not be admitted at all. — What 
©pinions and faith a man has in himself, he is con- 
scious of : but he cannot see another man's faith. He 
can get no track of it but information, derived from 
voluntary communication : But the other can keep it 
secret if he will. 

So much concerning faith in general. Let us pro- 
ceed, now, to examine the degrees of faith as mea- 
sured by probability and the incidental varyings of 
the relations that come under view upon this occa- 
sion. 



23 



CHAPTER III. 



Of the Degrees of Faith, according- to probability, and force of 

impression. 

±HE degrees of faith or assent, are doubt, sur- 
mise, guess, belief, and assurance. 

Doubt or demur, is the first degree of faith : for 
where is no assent, we are said to dissent from a pro- 
position ; and, not acquiescing in it at all, give assent to 
tne very contrary proposition. The word assent, im- 
plies in its import a relation to some particular propo- 
sition known and defined to the mind which exercises 
that assent, or is the subject of that chan-e which we 
call assent. Doubt is the first degree of assent or faith, 
because the very next thing after totally disbelieving 
a proposition, and denying and excluding everv de° 
gree of acquiescence in it, is to doubt whether"' it be 
true or false. Where is any doubt of the truth of a 
proposition, it is not totally disbelieved. Here no 
such a thing as disbelief takes place ; neither can it be 
unreservedly believed : for it is not wholly denied • 
and not thought to be impossible to be true. Doubt 
is admitting it possible to be true. When a proposi- 
tion is absolutely disbelived, there can be no doubt of 
t ; because its truth is altogether denied : the bias of 
the mind is direct to the contrary side : and all its ac- 
quiescence of assent is to the very contrary proposi- 
tion. And with respect to propositions, the very 
hrst change of the mind from disbelief, is doubt I 
use disbelief as the adversative of belief, and in a very 
ditferent sense from unbelief, which may mean any 
degree of faith falling short of belief. But when a 
proposition is not disbelieved, it seems to be in some 
degree believed 5 that is, we so far acquiesce in it as to 



24 

admit it possible to be true ,. and admit at least that 
there is as much probability of its being true as the 
contrary. Therefore doubt is the very first and low- 
est degree of faith. Moreover, admitting the possi- 
bility of the proposition being true, we admit simulta- 
neously some degree of probability also, which may 
be called the lowest degree and smallest measure of 
probability, because probability must have a gradua- 
tion correspondent to that of faith, since except it be 
probability faith has no foundation in the rational 
mind.— Yet this degree of probability that is conceded 
and admitted of a proposition being true, is, in this 
place, exactly in balance with what is allowed to the 
contrary proposition, or of this proposition being not 
true. Thus though this degree of faith is but one re- 
move from disbelief, (denial) nevertheless as much 
probability is given to one side of the question as the 
other, and we stand, as it were, on an average between 
two. This may seem a paradox ;— it being rather in- 
coherent to say there is a very small degree of proba- 
bility that such a thing is true, and there is a very 
small degree of probability that it is not true. But 
this diminutiveness of probability, means only the ob- 
scurity of our intellectual view :— it is grounded on 
our shortsightedness of understanding : the fact is, we 
admit but a very small degree of probability at all 
events, in either case ; and there appears as much on 
one side as the other : for we think very little on 
either side of the question, if indeed we may be said 
to think at all. For probability is appearing to the 
mind likely to agree, in what cannot be brought imme- 
diately togetherand intuitively seen whether they agree 
or not. It has no actual connexion with deliberation. 
We scarce think at all. This is the nature of that 
condition of mind we call doubting. When we 
come up to those degrees of faith which are footed on 
a preponderancy of evidence on the side of a proposi- 
tion presented/ in- opposition to a contradictory one, 



25 

we trace the mind in an attitude of alertness ot thought, 
and find this acquiescence or assent stands connected 
with more clear and definite views of the things we 
refer to. Here is more active thinking and investiga- 
tion : indeed these must have taken place before any 
such degrees of faith can happen. 

This use of the word doubt may not be readily ac- 
cepted, because it may be said to have been generally 
understood in a different sense : — though perhaps not 
rightly understood : for where any thing is absolutely 
disbelieved and denied, there can be no doubt of it. 
If I have doubt, it no more derogates from one pro- 
position than the exact contrary one. I am as far 
from believing one as the other. The assent is not 
fixed. There is no belief at all. It is a state of mind 
that falls short of belief. It may come under the gen- 
eral name assent, or faith, as an abstract term ; — yet 
it is not so high a degree of it as is called belief \ 
where credence is unreservedly given to a definitive 
proposition, and the contrary directly denied. — It is said 
doubt relates to the proposition of which it expresses 
a defect of acquiescence in it : as one is said to doubt 
of such a statement, but not to doubt that another 
statement is true. This is a prevailing mode of con- 
necting the word : but both these things are implied in 
one and the same phrase. If I doubt of the truth of 
one statement, I exactly in the same degree doubt of 
the falsehood of the reverse statement. In respect to 
belief, my mind is in equilibrio ; and I neither ex- 
clusively give assent to, nor withhold assent from, 
either. 

The second degree of faith, is that, next above 
doubt or demurring, where the probability in favour 
of a proposition preponderates ever so little the proba- 
bility of the contrary. This may be called surmise. 
When the probability recognized by the mind, is 
barely enough to turn the scale of the balance from 
the level of an equilibrium, towards the side of a given 
3 



26 

proposition, the corresponding degree of faith that 
takes place hereon, is that which I call surmise. In 
such cases, it is sometimes vulgarly said, though per- 
haps corruptly, that we are jealous of such or such a 
thing ;— or that we are very suspicious that it is so : 
as if we should say, we incline to belief and assurance 
of it. But jealousy and suspicion are by no means 
synonimous with surmise. This is only a misuse of 
words. In surmise is very little voluntary thinking. 
It seems to originate in suggestion, and to come by 
way of our trains of associate ideas. When a man 
merely surmises a thing, he has not commonly sufficient 
confidence to make the assertion of the proposition 
he hasin view, whether affirmative or negative, though 
he is less wavering than when he doubts. 

The third degree of faith is guess ; or, as it is some- 
times called, conjecture. This is that which takes 
place when the scale of evidence inclines somewhat 
more in its descent on the side of a proposition stipu- 
lated, than in the case of surmise. When a man 
guesses, he has more faith than when he surmises, al- 
though no more profound thought or examination at- 
tends it: as, suppose I should say, I guess there will be 
a day of judgment sometime or other, when the con- 
scious selves or persons of men, even though separate 
from the bodies they have now, shall stand before the 
judgement bar of the great Lord and Governor of the 
universe, to give account of the deeds they shall have 
done here, and be justly punished for all their rogueries, 
even though they go clear in this world— I guess there 
are several beings superior to mankind in intellectual 
powers and acquirements; but not with any extra 
sense or faculty, over and above and altogether differ- 
ent from what we have ; for in regard to that I can have 
no faith because I have no ideas. I can form no idea 
of such a sense or faculty. Faith being the taking of 
ideas to agree or disagree, or as if they agreed or dis- 
agreed, while their agreement or disagreement cannot 



27 



De actually discerned, it is plain that where we have 
no ideas to suppose related in this way, and conceive 
nothing, we can have no faith. Knowledge is per- 
ceiving the relation of agreement or repugnance be- 
tween ideas : and faith is taking up with reckoning 
upon this agreement or repugnance, without perceiv- 
ing it. And we can no more have faith without ideas 
than we can have knowledge without ideas : but I 
can guess there exist several beings of superior rank, 
who with such kind of powers and faculties as we 
have got, have attained to vastly greater accumula- 
tions of knowledge and greater expertness in the use 
of those faculties, than we have any account that human 
beings have given any examples of; — and this is a de- 
gree of faith that I have. I guess that three hundred 
pigeons have alighted in my field about sixty rods 
from my house. I guess the number forty-seven is 
contained eight times in four hundred and nineteen — 
though I have made no calculation on it : — but a little 
figuring carries me quite beyond the confines of faith, 
and gives me demonstrative knowledge that it is so, 
that forty-seven is contained in four hundred and 
nineteen eight times ; and precisely forty-three re- 
main. But with regard to the superior beings and the 
judgment, I am chained down to faith, and can't stir 
an inch, out of this station, to any thing higher ; though 
I can fluctuate (within these limits) from pillar to 
post ; — guess, surmise, believe, alternately, according 
to the appearance of things ; guess at, to-day, what I 
shall believe to-morrow ; — and perhaps what I believe 
to-day, to-morrow I shall but surmise or doubt. 

In guessing, is great confidence, though it is, appa- 
rently, farther from deliberation than surmise itself. 
We are apt to esteem it a fortuitous and desultory 
dashing at truth, without any guide at all, more than 
imagination. There seems to be, often, a precipitan- 
cy and hastiness about it, that impresses a strong per- 
suasion : and a man may guess what upon a minute's 



28 

reflection he will utterly disallow. The moment we 
begin to deliberate we stop guessing with repect to 
that particular thing we deliberate upon. Yet tin- 
questionably an appearance of greater likelihood or 
probability arises to the mind, when one is disposed 
to guess, than when he can only surmise. 

The fourth degree of faith, is where the preponder- 
ancy of the probability is still greater, and is not merer 
ly enough to give the scale the smallest inclination or 
deeidence, but to carry it down in compliance with 
several coincident considerations called proofs, which, 
the more they are in number, have the greater weight, 
and the more we approach the solid basis of know- 
ledge. And this may be called belief. — Here is an 
interval that admits a varying accumulation of proofs, 
of which the more we get together, the stronger is 
our belief, the better supported, and the more it ap- 
proaches to full assurance, which is the highest and 
last degree of assent, next to knowledge, which is 
quite beyond the boundaries of faith ; — and the less 
we are in danger of being confuted and carried back 
to those inferior degrees, guess, surmise, or doubt. 
But it is all but belief still, till it comes to full as- 
surance. Belief is susceptible of different firmness 
and strength, and is more or less liable to be subvert- 
ed by accumulation of evidence on a contrary propo- 
sition, according to the pertinency and number of 
proofs we have. If a man believes, he must have con- 
sidered the weight of evidence on which his faith is 
bottomed ; and compared some facts or truths that go 
to support his belief, with others that are used on the 
contrary side of the question. Thus if I believe three 
hundred pigeons have alighted on my field, it is be- 
cause — what ? not merely on account of the same con- 
siderations that would have induced me to guess ; — 
but, because it is the season of the year when multi- 
tudes of pigeons frequently are changing their place, 
in companies — not only so, — but I have seen, a short 






o 



9 



time before, a flock in which I guess were three hun- 
dred, flying in that direction ;— it is a field of grain; — 
it is a place where pigeons have been wont to halt ; — 
those which I saw appeared inclining to descend to 
the ground ; — and I no longer guess, but actually be- 
lieve that three hundred pigeons are seated upon that 
field. These several considerations laid together, are 
proofs, that give me this persuasion. 

In regard to those instances where I have said it is 
impossible to avoid either believing or disbelieving at 
the moment when a proposition is first apprehended 
as stipulated to the mind, let it be noted that, by be- 
lief, is there meant, faith in general, and not that par- 
ticular degree of it which is strictly called belief in 
distinction from other degrees, and which, for that 
purpose, I am now appropriating the word to desig- 
nate. But however it may be with some particular 
sorts of propositions, though it be impossible to disbe- 
lieve some, and impossible to believe others, at the 
time they are stated, I think propositions in general, 
are capable of being entertained with these several de- 
grees of faith, according to the circumstances under 
which they appear: — that is, supposing them to be 
such as belong to the province of faith, and not of 
knowledge, and yet not absurd, or contradictory of 
themselves. But some will entertain absurdities with 
faith, from want of thought : nay, according to our 
history, the world has not yet wanted its thousands 
nor its tens of thousands who could swallow absurd 
propositions and entertain them with some degree 
of faith proportionate to the thought and reflection 
they were capable of exercising about such objects. 
When belief has for its object some action done or in- 
tended by another, it is named suspicion. 

The fifth degree of faith is that which follows when 
the preponderancy of the probability is the greatest 
that it can be without completely terminating the va- 
riation of the mind's acquiescence!, and admitting of 
3* i 



30 

knowledge.— This I call assurance. This is the very 
last, and called the highest degree of faith, verging to 
absolute knowledge, where is no wavering nor uncer- 
tainty at all, but a clear and satisfactory view of the 
agreement or diagreement of two things affirmed or 
denied of one another. So long as we have nothing 
but faith, we are liable to be overpersuaded, and can 
be dispossessed of the opinions we have, to be furnish- 
ed with new ones. But when we have knowledge, 
we cannot be persuaded out of that. In case of assu- 
rance, is greater weight of probability than in that of 
belief. This state of mind is often mistaken for know- 
ledge : and it is very common to make the same use 
of it, as a principle of conduct. 

By examining these several degrees of faith, we 
trace the mind in all its attitudes and changes of pos- 
ture with respect to a proposition given, concerning 
things unknown, from the very first moment of its 
listening and leaning towards it, till it embraces it in 
full confidence, as if it were a matter of certainty. 

In these cases of assent and acquiescence of mind, 
we are to take notice that we are always liable to be 
confuted and put back to a state of distrust and doubt, 
and even totally to abandon our belief, and assent to 
the contrary side of the question. This is a circum- 
stance of the condition of our intellectual affairs, that 
distinguishes all degrees of faith : whereas, when we 
arrive at knowledge, we are no longer liable to be 
dispossessed of our assuredness by any arguments 
whatever, but may only lose it by oblivion. 

In casses of assent, and when we have only opinion, 
we are liable to have our stock of evidence upon 
which our faith is bottomed, overbalanced by the 
proofs that another person may get together in favour of 
a proposition that is contradictory of what we believe, 
and thus he is said to confute us, and overset the 
whole structure of our tenet whereof we are per- 
suaded : but when a man knows a thing, he cannot 



31 



be persuaded from it by arguments, and dispossessed 
ot his knowledge by proofs to the contrary : for 
knowledge supersedes the influence of proofs : all 
proof is there at an end. 

As the equivocal manner in which this subject has 
heretofore been customarily treated by many of those 
who have made much use of the word, has given rise 
to several questions concerning faith ; our next course 
shall be to examine them.— The most considerable 
and important of these questions, are, whether faith 
be voluntary ornot :— whether there be obligation 
in respect tofaith,— or whether a man may be said 
to have obligation to give assent to a proposition, or 
not :— whether faith can be a dutv, or not .-—whether 
faith can be imputed as a virtue or the want of it as a 
vice, or not :— and whether a man can believe what he 
does not understand and what he cannot conceive 
or not. ' 



091 



CHAPTER IV 



The question canvassed, whether Faith is voluntary or 
involuntary. 

JL HE -five great questions that remain to be set- 
tled concerning faith, to clear the way to the object of 
this present pursuit, are, 1st — Is faith voluntary or in- 
voluntary ? 2d-— Is faith a subject of obligation, or can 
a man be under obligation to believe a proposition, or 
not ? 3d — Can faith be a duty, or not? 4th — Can faith 
be a virtue or the want of it a vice ? 5th — Can a man 
believe what he does not understand and cannot con- 
ceive ? 

With regard to the first of these questions, we may, 
in the very entrance, lay it down as an unquestiona- 
ble position that it must be either voluntary or invo- 
luntary. One or other of these, it must be : which 
is no more than saying, it must be either voluntary or 
be not voluntary : and this is self-evident. For the in- 
separable preposition in, tacked to the word volunta- 
ry, is nothing but a privative, and signifies only an 
exclusion of the quality it is connected with, from the 
thing of which it is spoken. 

In respect of the first question, then, this Disquisi- 
tion begins at the conceptions we have, to which we 
habitually apply the terms voluntary and faith. These 
are not substances ; but mode and relation. The sim- 
ple idea of motion we get from real existence ulterior 
to our understanding, that causes it by way of sensa- 
tion. The idea of a mode of motion, as a distinct idea* 
is made by exertion of our intellect whereby it is lim- 
ited and determined to its peculiar composition, and 
fixed to its peculiar word or sign by which it is always 
to be known and distingished.— Men, in the first in- 



33 

stance, arbitrarily connect whatever signs they please, 
with their notions, to denote them to others : yet 
when languages are established by general use, and 
confined by custom to any particular train, the usao-e 
of the majority of those who apply the words of^a 
language in any certain way, most frequently, is taken 
to be the standard of what is called propriety or the 
popular use of words most readily and extensively un- 
derstood. Consequently, this Disquisition is not so 
much a physical as a philological one. The question 
whether there be any such thing as free-agency or 
not, does not concern things beyond our conceptions, 
and does not resolve itself into the question whether 
such particular thing we cannot clearly comprehend, 
be possible to exist in the universe, or be possible to 
have been created in consistence with the known parts 
of real existence, or not : otherwise it were trifling • 
and all the noise that has been made about settling it' 
is nonsense. But it is in fact little other than the 
question whether there be such an idea in men, to 
which is properly applied the term free-agency. It 
is only to ask whether free-will be a proper and sig- 
nificant term which denotes a determinate notion pre- 
vailing in people at large, which is generally and cor- 
rectly understood by that sign being used. Therefore 
this also is a philological inquiry. To settle this, it 
were never needful to go farther than to be acquaint- 
ed with common custom • since the very circumstance, 
the using of such a word generally, in writing and 
discourse, and being understood, is of itself a conspi- 
cuous proof that there is such a thing.— For if there 
were no such thing determined, in which men con- 
sented, how could there be so much talk about it ? and 
how can we account for their understanding one ano- 
ther when we charge them with using sounds without 
meaning ?— The controversy about the thing proves 
its existence ;— whence the question of its existence 
becomes absurd. There is, then, what is called votun- 



34 

tary. There is a distinction of voluntary and invo- 
luntary in the motions of men, whether of mind or bo- 
dy. There is a distinction of free and not free. — It 
being conclusively settled that there is such a thing as 
an idea to which in propriety such a word is referred, 
men can with use and consistency talk of what agrees 
with it, and what does not. This, that, and the other 
thing, may be denied of it : and so many things may 
be affirmed of it as there are of different distinct no- 
tions in its composition, necessary to form that idea of 
voluntary. What is called voluntary, and the distinc- 
tion between voluntary and involuntary, is something 
that exists in the minds of men, which is signified by 
those words, or else it is no where, and those words 
signify nothing, but are still used at random, without 
any settled meaning. Voluntary is that which dis- 
criminates any act or posture by its following in conse- 
quence that motion of the sensorium, which, called 
volition, consists in a radiating movement or change 
of the sensorial substance, beginning at its centre and 
proceeding towards the extremities. Involuntary, on 
the contrary, is that which discriminates any act or 
posture, which, being caused by sensation, a diametri- 
cally reverse movement of the same substance, ope- 
rates to resist and oppose such particular volition as, at 
the time, might have a tendency to prevail. I am 
speaking of what the terms signify in their common 
propriety. — Numerous examples might illustrate this 
application of the words mentioned, and bring to view 
instances of such things as make up these meanings : 
e. g. when any one is under the pressure of severe 
bodily pain of any sort, that has come suddenly upon 
him, the very first expedient to relieve it, is voluntary 
exertion. Beasts and all animals whatsoever, resort in- 
stantaneously to voluntary effort : such as violent res- 
piration, writhing, &c. and in case the pain is ago- 
nizing, the whole voluntary energy is put in requisi- 
sition, and a general struggle agitates the whole frame. 



35 

And some relief is in fact obtained by these means. 
For the time being, they divert from the perception, 
The moment any violent effort of this kind is going 
on, we are not sensible of the pain. This instanta- 
neous effort, in some cases loses its discrimination of 
voluntary, and is even called involuntary : the mo- 
tion being so rapid, and having become so familiar, 
the manner in which it originated is not perceived : 
as in cases of Tetanus, called cramp, lock-jaw, St. 
Vitus's dance, &c. which are originally voluntary 
motions. 

On the contrary, when any sharp pain supervenes 
to any part of the body, it has a direct tendency to 
suspend voluntary activity ; checks resolution in all 
other respects besides some effort to resist the press of 
the prevailing sensation ; diminishes the desire of ac- 
tive employment ; and brings down the loftiest aims 
of ambition. Thus we see one naturally resists the 
other ; which makes it probable they are contrary mo- 
tions of the same substance. — Our sensations are, un- 
doubtedly, motion : for all the sensorial fibres of our 
system are usually in motion while we live ; and we 
are conscious of an increased motion in a part which 
pertinges an external body that produces an irritation 
or sensation. Other facts, of parallel effect, are fami- 
liar to those who study physiology. 

Faith, as has been before observed, is an attitude 
of the mind, including relation to two propositions. 
Thus it consists of the idea of certain perceptions ex- 
isting in the mind ; and two different relations, as 
those existing perceptions respect each of the proposi- 
tions, which are discerned to be opposite and contra- 
dictory. — It being determined what these two things 
are which are called by these names, it will be easy to 
settle the question whether faith is voluntary or not, 
by our common faculty of discerning, since it is this 
by which we know intuitively, one idea is not ano- 
ther idea. For if voluntary is so different a thing 



36 

from faith that it does not consist with it, ov in other 
words, the idea of voluntary makes no part of the idea 
of faith, it is evident that voluntary cannot be affirmed 
of faith. For one idea cannot be affirmed of another, 
on any other principle but that it is contained in it. — 
By this rule, the one of which the other is affirmed, 
must be a complex idea. A simple idea cannot be 
affirmed of another simple idea. That which is af- 
firmed of another, whether a simple or a complex one, 
is to be found among the component parts of that of 
which it is affirmed. For whether they be simple 
ideas or composed of more or less of the distinguisha- 
ble elementary conceptions that make up the particu- 
lar ideas limited and marked out by distinct names, 
which go to constitute this idea of which the other is 
affirmed, the one that is affirmed of it, will be found 
amongst them : e. g. if faith be voluntary, it is be- 
cause the idea of voluntary is contained in, or makes 
one of the constituents of, the idea of faith. Now it is 
plain that by examining these ideas that we denote by 
these signs, voluntary and faith, precisely ascertain- 
ing the particular notices and considerations that con- 
stitute them, (for one of them at least is a complex 
idea) whereby we discover whether one is contained 
in the other, we shall be able directly to settle the 
question whether one can be affirmed of the other. 
For if in our conception of that thing we call faith, 
made of the perceptions of two contrary propositions 
propounded to the understanding, the relation the 
mind stands in with regard to those propositions, 
which is an effect of the consideration of certain proofs 
and their proportions, that make the agreement or 
disagreement of their terms appear to the mind, com- 
prising that state or impression called acquiescence in 
the one and a want of acquiescence in the other, no 
such idea as that which we call voluntary is found to 
be comprehended, faith cannot be affirmed to be vo- 
luntary ; i. e. the idea of voluntary cannot be affirmed 



37 



to be in that of faith ; and we do not say that thai 
quality belongs to faith. If no such idea as of what 
immediately follows consecutively to volition and is 
caused by it, enters into the composition of that, which, 
having agreed to denote by the word faith, propriety 
determinately affixes to that name, we cannot consist- 
ently say faith is voluntary. 

The idea of motion may be thought not to be ne- 
cessarily included in whatever the epithet voluntary 
is applied to, and not an indispensable condition of af- 
firming any thing to be voluntary. The word mo- 
tion may be said to stand for another idea distinct 
from that which voluntary stands for ; and the addition 
of the word motion to voluntary, to make a sign that 
expresses altogether a different idea from what does 
one of them by itself. Yet as it is considered some- 
thing flowing from volition (which is motion) as an 
effect caused by it, we necessarily include in it rela- 
tion to motion ; and we cannot frame a conception of 
a relation to motion, and escape altogether the idea of 
motion : for a relation cannot be conceived totally in- 
dependent of, and separate from, the thing related, 
and to which the relation has a view, where two or 
more ideas are compared : (for out of this arises rela- 
tion, such sort of ideas having no other source :) so that 
if we deny it the predicament of mode of motion, se- 
veral things w T herein motion is not essential, or is ex- 
cluded, being called voluntary because they are effects 
coming, in consecution, from volition, we must at 
least allow it a rank among our ideas of relations ; and 
if so, we must conceive an idea of motion, inasmuch 
as motion is the thing related. — There are other mo- 
tions besides voluntary ones. There is motion that is 
not voluntary. And if the idea of faith take in the 
conception of motion, it may not imply voluntary mo- 
tion. If acquiescence, consent, or impression, tacitly 
involve the idea of motion, it is not voluntary motion ; 
and the relation is not direct to motion, but to propo- 
4 



38 

sitions. Moreover it is not conceived to be a result 
of voluntary effort ; for it comes in the train of sensa- 
tion rather than volition. There is a certain habitude 
between the terms of a proposition, and between two 
propositions, coming to view through the intervening 
visto of certain proofs ; and under this view of the 
propositions and proofs, in which is relation to each, 
there is a certain impression, (called acquiescence or 
assenting) made on the mind by this prospect. This 
impression seems signally sensitive. It comes as an 
effect , regularly, from an appearance of things. The 
propositions appear on certain grounds, with certain as- 
pects, and the impression then takes place. Perhaps 
the propositions are not brought up to apprehension by 
voluntary seeking, as recollection, invention, study, — 
but bolted upon the mind through the auricular senso- 
ry from the force of an external speaker ; or through 
the sight, from a book of another's writing : yet what- 
ever way they come to view, the impression, what- 
ever it be, that is consecutive to the appearance they 
make, is what the mind cannot avoid, and therefore is 
not voluntary, but involuntary. The assent must be 
given to that proposition which appears to have the 
preponderance of evidence ; and in a degree that is 
proportionate to that preponderance. The mind of 
man cannot avoid assenting to that which appears 
more probable than the contrary. It is a necessary 
consequence coming after its adequate cause instituted 
in the very constitution of nature. It is involuntary. 
It partakes of no voluntary exertion. It is not at our 
option to believe or disbelieve, when a proposition 
stands displayed to our understanding, in a certain ha- 
bitude relative with proofs and with another proposi- 
tion. Studying the question, is voluntary. Men have 
confounded belief with inquiry when they have spoken 
of it as a voluntary and free act ; or rather, they have 
confounded believing a proposition, with the act of 
endeavouring to prove it. 



39 

Throw hither all your paradoxical samples, declina- 
ble and indeclinable, from the Mahometan creed, to 
the memoir of a backwoodsman of Kentucky. Here 
comes a lad who informs me that four oxen and a cow 
have broken into my field of corn, (its distance is two 
hundred rods) and are feasting themselves there upon 
the fruits of my labour. — It is contended, it is at my 
option to believe or disbelieve it : and a question is 
started, whether, if faith follows ohoice, a man's self- 
love will not naturally determine him to believe what 
is pleasant, and to disbelieve what is unpleasant. For 
certainly there are some things which he would wish 
to realize, and which he rejoices in believing ; and 
other things which he regrets, and would choose that 
the reality should be quite otherwise. Now this is by 
no means pleasant for me to believe : the more faith I 
have in the boy's report, the more uneasiness ; be- 
cause I consider myself despoiled of the fruits of my 
labour. But you say I can believe it or not believe, as 
I please. Most surely then I will not believe, for in- 
deed this pleases me most. But you will say next, it 
will make no odds in the reality of things existing. I 
answer then — for this very reason I will disbelieve, 
because in spite of existence I can have the pleasure of 
disbelieving any calamity has befallen me, and of sup- 
posing all my possessions are secure while in fact ano- 
ther man's herd is devouring my harvest. Moreover, 
you argue, the disbelief would have a bad effect ) for 
thereupon you would omit sending a servant to dis- 
lodge the depredators and repair the fence : the conse- 
quence might be the loss of the whole crop. But, man, 
can I not do this at venture ? Indeed I can take these 
measures to please him that makes the report and to se- 
cure myself, charging the servant to be ready on the 
emergency if there be any foundation to this state- 
ment; at the same time that I do myself the pleasure 
to believe there is no such foundation at all. But 
what will you say if I tell you I do believe this report^ 



40 

and find myself unable to disbelieve it, in consideration 
of several circumstances, particularly that the relateris 
a person noted for veracity, and I have knowledge of 
a fact that greedy unruly cattle quarter adjoining my 
enclosure, and of another, that my fence is poor ; — 
wherefore the probability seems greater on the side 
of this story than the contrary : and by believing it, I 
am induced to send forces to drive aw T ay the cattle and 
mend the fence. A very proper motive — say you. I 
admit it. For you will not pretend that I can believe 
the report and disbelieve it at one time, unless you 
allow it possible for the same thing to be and not to 
be, and for one body to be in two places at the same 
time : yet a man can almost do this if faith follow 
choice : at least as quick as one thought can succeed 
another, he may be expected to pass from belief to 
disbelief.— Faith, in itself, is not partially free : it is 
either wholly free or wholly necessary. 

This very argument of the fixedness of real exist- 
ence not to be controlled nor in any way affected by 
our faith, is an argument against the freedom of 
faith, because the objects of faith relate to the re- 
ality of things : they essentially imply a reference to 
it. But faith either conforms wholly to the evidence 
apparent, and the impression the mind lies under, or 
it is even as free and optional as it was with a modern 
Dutchman, who, cavalierly reflecting upon a traveller 
for propagating some doctrine which he and his neigh- 
bours had not been accustomed to, evinced, w r ith 
much advantage, his independence of mind, by say- 
ing — " Suppose this man comes here amongst us, 
and, because he has great learning and more abili- 
ties than the generality of us, makes a book ; — must 
I believe it ? — Jim I obliged to believe it ? — No ; — 
I wont believe any of his books. I have one book, 
and that is enough — that Pll believe ; — but not 
his" u But," rejoined a by-stander, " I suppose, my 
friend, you would believe it if you thought it were 



41 

f rue — would you not?" to which the other saith, 
u jy ; — Ptpe tamm>d if I woot pelieve it" — And 
just such a notion of faith, has every one who deems 
it a free voluntary act ; or a thing that spontaneously 
follows choice. 



CHAPTER V. 

Whether there can be obligation of Faith or not. 

JL HE next question is, whether faith can be the 
subject of obligation — or, whether a man can be under 
obligation to have faith, and to believe any proposi- 
tion, or not. And this, one would think, would re- 
quire no deep investigation to answer : it seeming 
what is generally admitted by all who have common 
sense, that obligation to do, can extend no farther than 
power to do ; and that the term obligation is applica- 
ble only to such things as are at our option to do or 
not to do, or w T hich we have power to do or forbear ; 
but is no how consistent with what is involuntary and 
will happen whether we will or no. — Nevertheless the 
question may have a fair eventilation ; and it will be 
found to be a philological one rather than any other ; 
for it depends on what meaning is attached to the 
word obligation, to ascertain whether it agrees with 
faith so as to be applicable to it. The method to be 
pursued in commencing this investigation in a proper 
way, is to ascertain the determined composition of the 
idea to which we affix the word obligation. When we 
have done this, if we have a determinate idea of faith, 
we can compare it with this idea of faith, and see 
whether it has such an aspect towards it that one with 
propriety may be said to have obligation to faith, viz. 

obligation to believe a proposition. — Perhaps this word 

4* 



42 

obligation, is variously defined by different persons. 
The only sure track toward the truth we are here in 
quest of, is to keep in view the meaning that is most 
common with those who use the language most regu- 
larly and most extensively. This we must be govern- 
ed by, inasmuch as we have no other guide to an accu- 
rate use of the words of our vocabulary ; it being the 
very thing that is called the standard of propriety. 
The prevailing practice among such speculators is the 
rule and measure, and the conformity to it in the use 
of words, is propriety. 

Obligation seems to be a peculiar fitness whereof 
we are sensible, (and whereby it appears urgent,) of 
the performance of any action in our power to do or 
forbear, arising from a dependency of others' feelings 
on that action, and of our own feelings upon the ef- 
fect that action has upon theirs, founded in the nature 
of things. 

I don't know that this explanation conveys precise- 
ly what is most commonly understood by the word 
obligation, by cursory observers ; yet I believe as 
much as this is generally meant by that word, by 
those who use it with any degree of regularity. Now 
what we have power to do or forbear, I take to be 
purely optional, and altogether opposed to involunta- 
ry. Now if there be any propriety in saying a man 
has obligation to faith, it is because the idea of faith is 
implied in this definition, so as to be found among the 
relations of the idea of obligation, otherwise among the 
things it is related to. It must equally comport with 
this sort of fitness arising from such and such depend- 
encies and connections, with any action in our power 
to do or forbear. Faith must be some action in our 
power to do or forbear. To say any thing is in our 
power to do or forbear, is to say it follows choice, or 
in other words is consecutive to choice. Now here 
is a certain relation between these ideas, i. e. between 
the idea of obligation and the idea of faith. There is 






43 

a certain connection of the particular ideas that com- 
pose the idea of obligation. There is agreement of 
one part of the idea with the other parts. One part 
is a sort of actions, or kind of actions, i. e. any such 
as we have in our power to do or forbear. Faith 
must be of this kind if it can be said a man is under 
obligation to faith. There is this particular relation re- 
quired, between this and any other idea to which this 
is said to be applicable. Any thing whereof this re- 
lation is affirmed, must comport and consist with what 
is described in that part of the definition, that declares 
the thing of which this peculiar fitness is an at- 
tribute. And if this is action and faith be no action ; 
and if this is voluntary and faith be not voluntary ; it is 
plain no such relation subsists between obligation and 
faith, and that therefore a person cannot be properly 
said to have obligation to faith. 

With regard to this definition, if it be not the com- 
mon sense of the term when considered as marking a 
distinct idea, I would have any one furnish a different 
explanation which should better express the proper 
use of this word. For when it is said I am under 
obligation to be punctual and upright to my fellow- 
men, what else is it, in sense and meaning, but saying 
there is rationally an eminent fitness in it, (i. e. in 
such voluntary conduct of me towards them) that 
makes it sensibly urgent because of a dependency of 
their feelings upon my free course of conduct in this 
respect, and because, being a member of society, my 
feelings also have a dependency on the effect my con- 
duct has upon theirs, by way of sympathy which by 
nature I have with beings of the same make ; and that 
from these two dependencies, this fitness and its ad- 
junct urgency naturally arises. For if I had no feel- 
ing, more than a stone, I were not sensible of any ef- 
fect my operations should have on others, neither were 
I susceptible of the pleasures and pains which consti- 
tute the reward of virtue and the punishment of vice : 



44 

therefore could not hare any obligation at all. But, 
as a sensible and rational being, I am said to be under 
obligation to certain actions. Something like this, I am 
sure is generally meant by obligation : or else the word 
is very equivocal. Moreover this plainly applies to 
what is voluntary and unconstrained, and to nothing 
else. Furthermore, the epithet voluntary belongs 
to nothing but what is consequent to will. By what 
has been heretofore said, faith has been, not only 
proved to be involuntary, but, I think, made very 
evident to be no action at all. And if faith is not vo- 
luntary, and obligation belongs exclusively to what'& 
voluntary, it plainly follows, there is no such thing as 
obligation holding a man to have faith in a proposition. 
We do not say a smoke-jack is volitive or free, in its 
circumvolution ; neither do we say it is under obliga- 
tion to circulate. Yet that motion is as voluntary as 
faith is ; and obligation as aptly belongs to it as it does 
to faith. But obligation does not belong to any thing 
which is not voluntary : — how, then, can there be ob- 
ligation to have faith ? — No such thing can be found 
in nature. It is for ever irreconcileable and repug- 
nant to our experience. 

What has been frequently said of the obligation of 
faith, when spoken with any sincerity, has alluded 
merely to the ultraneous examining of probability, 
searching after truth, or whatever is preparatory to 
faith ; or else to outward profession, declaring to 
others that one adheres to this or that tenet. Conse- 
quently this language has been very equivocal, and 
improper when obligation has been applied to faith 
itself. 






45 
CHAPTER VI. 

Whether Faith can be a Duty or not. 



Wi 



E are not without examples of those who con- 
tend it is an important and serious duty, on several oc- 
casions, to believe, or have faith in, a certain class of 
propositions : i. e. to believe some propositions, par- 
ticularly assigned, and to disbelieve others. And the 
propriety and intelligibleness of this, are questioned. 

One would think this question could be settled 
without difficulty, because the accepted meaning of 
duty is obviously confined to what we are at liberty 
to do or leave undone ; and not only so, but, the re- 
ceived sense depends so much upon obligation, that to 
say it is our duty to do such or such an action, is ve- 
ry much the same as to say we are under obligation to 
do it. But in respect to obligation being restricted to 
the influence or prescription of human laws, there may 
be a question whether in certain cases it is not our du- 
ty to perform something which we are not obligated 
to do ; as giving a breakfast to a stranger who is 
fainting from want, when, in this sense, we are under 
no obligation to do it : but it would be a matter of ob- 
ligation if he had contracted with the man to labour 
for us during the day and had promised him his suste- 
nance, or if we had received money from him for the 
purpose of such supply. This should be called legal 
obligation. But I say, we have obligation to do it : 
we have obligation, independent of the awe we ar- c 
under from the compulsory influence of human inst 
tutions. We have obligation to do good. We have 
obligation to do good, setting aside all contracts, pro- 
mises, human laws and commands, whatever. And 
what we have obligation to do, I understand to be 



46 

our duty. The law of nature imposes obligations on 
us, independently of the authorities of all human esta- 
blishments. The law of nature makes certain actions 
fit, to the highest degree urgent, and indispensable to 
our well-being. It lays us under obligations in conse- 
quence of the relations we stand in, and the proper- 
ties we possess. Mankind being possessed of sym- 
pathy, are made happy or unhappy by the perception 
of the effects their voluntary conduct has on other in- 
dividuals of their species. One cannot see a being of 
the same species with himself, suffering pain in con- 
sequence of any voluntary act by which he has been 
the intentional cause of that effect, and be happy 
while he has that perception ; — wherefore, being sen- 
sible of the relation of dependency between others' 
feelings and his own voluntary and free actions, and 
between his own feelings and those of others, which 
are effects following his own actions, it is fit, and in- 
dispensably requisite to the security of his enjoyment 
as a percipient and intelligent creature, in the rank and 
station he holds among the connexions of real being, 
that he perform certain actions and practise certain 
courses in preference to others, with respect to those 
beings. This is obligation. We have obligation to 
do good and not to do evil ; — nay, obligation to do to 
others what we would have them do to us. These 
dependencies result from the constitution of nature. 
This property, called sympathy, is constitutional in 
men. 

But this doing good, supposes voluntary action, 
supposes choice, supposes free-agency. And if faith 
be not a voluntary act, and no act at all, as hath been 
shown, it plainly appears faith does not belong to this 
predicament : and faith is not doing good. The dif- 
ference between obligation and duty, is this : — Obli- 
gation is the fitness or requisition of an action, and 
duty is the action itself, which we have obligation to 
do. If it be represented as my duty to believe any 



47 

story, it is said to be so on the principle of certain 
reasons that are urged, which may be supposed ought 
to induce me to believe it ; (this argumentation itself 
pretends faith to be voluntary — duty is not pretended 
to be any thing that is not voluntary) but not ration- 
ally making it evident as other reports of fact. It is 
said it originated in such a source, relates to such sub- 
jects, has such coincidences of some of its passages, 
its first promulgation was accompanied by such cir- 
cumstances, and followed by such events, it influ- 
ences in such a manner the governments and great 
powers of the world ; and it is my duty to have faith 
in it — and if I do not, I shall be punished, so and so : — 
perhaps in a lake of burning brimstone : — have my 
soul which is spirit, (i. e. not matter) cut from my 
body, and thrown, by itself, leaving the body other- 
where, into a lake consisting of flame made by an 
immense mass of brimstone being in a state of burning, 
to lie there unconsumed during eternal ages ! Also, 
the propositions are assigned. It is this or that parti- 
cular story, or doctrine, and not another, which is 
prescribed me as my task to believe. But if it be ad- 
dressed to my reason, there is no need of saying it is 
my duty : it is the duty of water to descend from a 
declivity. It does so in obedience to the law of gra- 
vity. It submits to the mandate of nature. Physical 
necessity impels it. In the same sense and no other, 
it is the duty of a rational soul to close with a propo- 
sition which has with it a preponderancy of evidence. 
My reason can no more refuse assent to the proposi- 
tion which has the greatest weight of evidence or ap- 
pears more probable than the contrary, than water 
can refuse to descend from a declivity. Neither can 
I any more avoid disbelieving it, if it lack that evi- 
dence and appear improbable. One is as necessary 
as the other. Both are effects instituted in the order 
of nature ; and issuing from principles grounded in 
the constitution of things. Some are apt to speak di- 



48 

minutively of duty,, and say that a man in doing this 
or that exploit, has" done no more than his duty — if 
he do more he is worthy of praise. But what com- 
mendation does he deserve for doing his duty ? Thus 
they will have certain ordinary offices duties ; where- 
as if a man does any thing great and noble, they say 
he super erogates, and does more than his duty. As 
such they deem it honorary and worthy of particular 
note. Here they evidently circumscribe duty to legal 
obligation ; as if it were nothing better than doing 
what a man feels himself constrained to do, from a 
dread of suffering some pain or inconvenience to be 
inflicted by his fellow-men, in consequence of omit- 
ting it. When nothing else operates to induce one to 
do what is just or good, there is no more than legal ob- 
ligation, or what is prescribed by human contrivances. 
What is to be performed in conformity to obligation, 
is duty. Any particular action a person is under obliga- 
tion to do, is a duty. You owe me three hundred dol- 
lars. You have obligation to pay me that sum be- 
cause you have received the value of it from me, and 
two of your neighbours saw you put your name under 
a piece of writing which set forth your promise to do 
it. The writing is vulgarly called an obligation, be- 
cause it proves obligation. It proves the fitness of 
that action, — proves that it is requisite in order to 
peace, honour and subsistence, — so far as you have 
ability : for obligation reaches no farther than power. 
This peculiar fitness, depending on and distinguished 
by such existing relations and circumstances as are 
noted on these occasions, is obligation ; and the pay- 
ment of the money, if your are able, is a duty you 
have to perform towards me. And every thing you 
have obligation to do, is a duty. This is all the dif- 
ference of duty and obligation. But you have obliga- 
tion to many things besides what you are legally hold- 
en to, by written or verbal promise. Obligation does 
not consist in paper nor in sounds. Of course you 



49 

have many duties more than this. It is your duty to 
feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to instruct the 
ignorant, and to do divers other things, when you 
are able. — But Faith is none of these. — I am aware of 
what one stands ready to object, — faith is a duty of a 
spiritual being to a spirit — i. e. what the soul of man, 
which is a spirit, owes to God who is a spirit : that 
it is a spiritual or intellectual act which is a duty, that 
God requires of the soul, and is totally distinct from all 
other duties : which soul, if it refuses to perform this 
duty, will be punished therefor, in a manner suited to 
its peculiar capacities. This is going beyond our 
ideas. This ranges beyond the uttermost bourne of 
our conceptions. A most divine elevation of senti- 
ment, truly ! For we know nothing of spirit, only 
that it is .not matter. All the conception we have of 
spirit, is this negation of material existence. We can 
give it neithr local habitation nor form. Here we use 
sounds without signification. Whatever proper words 
we use, however grammatically arranged, we speak 
them as parrots do, without any fixed purport : and 
it is the same thing whether a man talks or a parrot 
talks, when he utters words with no determinate ideas 
attached to them for their meaning : — but we use 
words in this way when we pretend to mean what we 
cannot mean, or to denote ideas which we are not 
capable of comprehending. We have no idea at all of 
spirit, more than the mere sound of that word ; at least 
that word does not convey us any notion of a distinct 
subject of real existence. We have no pretence to 
any other knowledge of its essence than privation or 
denial of something we do know. — All we can say, is, 
that it is not matter : therefore we have no concep- 
tion of what it is, but what it is not. For an idea of 
acting, we must recur to our common stock of element- 
ary notions drawn from sensation and reflection. We 
have no conception of any sort of effort but what we 
find here. We have seen matter in motion, and we 



50 

are conscious of communicating and suspending mo- 
tion in particular instances by will. This is all we 
know of acting. But it is said faith is not this sort — 
it is action of the soul or spirit, wholly different in 
kind. Now then the literal statement of all that is 
purported in this whole argument, is simply to say, 
faith is something we know not what, performed by 
something we know not what, towards something we 
know not what : which amounts, ultimately, to this — 
faith is somewhat of which we have no conception : 
which means very little more than saying, faith is 
nothing at all : as much as to say, the word faith means 
nothing, because there is no conception or idea to ap- 
ply it to. This is at once denying faith to be volun- 
tary, obligatory, and any thing else that is pretended 
of it : so that this objection itself confutes the tenet 
that faith is a duty. Faith is no duty. It is not a 
voluntary act : it has nothing to do with obligation : — 
it is a condition of mind, produced by certain ap- 
pearances and relations therein. It is one's duty to 
inquire after truth ; to diligently search for wisdom 
and propriety ; to examine the probability of tenets 
which may have influence on his character as a social 
agent ; and when he has done this, his faith necessarily 
follows his evidence, as water runs rapidly over de- 
scending ground. It appears, then, to be improper to 
say, faith is a duty, — or, it is a man's duty to have 
faith in a proposition or any assigned set of proposi- 
tions. It wants sense \ and is unintelligible. 



51 
CHAPTER VII. 

Whether Faith can be a Virtue, the want of it a Vice. 

X.HIS fourth question, respecting the imputing of 
faith as a virtue, has been, in a great measure, anti- 
cipated in the foregoing discussions : for there is 
very little difference between this, and the ques- 
tion whether faith can be a duty : for if it be not 
properly a duty, one would think, by natural and di- 
rect inference, it could not be a virtue, nor the want 
of it a vice ; — referring to the common accceptations of 
the words. 

For virtue is generally thought to be something 
which men have somewhat of obligation to, and so is 
duty. To do one's duty, also, commonly passes for 
virtue : and to be virtuous, is confest to be one's duty. 
For virtue is generally taken to be somewhat that in 
moral actions is called good, in opposition to evil, 
which is called vice or wickedness ; and it is not 
questioned it is one's duty to be good ; — else what is 
the meaning of this precept, * Cease to do evil and learn 
to do well V and there is a conspicuous affinity of all 
these words that relate to the preferableness of modes 
and measures of voluntary action. Yet it is well 
enough to mark out some precise limits to what we 
will have understood and denoted by this word, that 
our idea of virtue may be as determinate, at least, as 
that of faith, when we are investigating the propriety 
of affirming one of the other. — Moreover, we are not 
on ground which may give us any distrust of the fa- 
cility of accomplishing this decision. For those who 
ascribe merit to aay thing which is absolutely con- 
strained and unavoidable, who make virtue consist in 
involuntary motions, or accidents beyond all control 



52 

of volition, and openly preach that doctrine in earnest, 
are not now numerous. If faith, therefore, be not a 
duty, not a subject of obligation, not voluntary, not 
free, and no action at all, as we have endeavoured to 
show, it will be manifest that it cannot be a virtue, in 
itself, nor the absence or want of it be a vice : for vir- 
tue and vice are words which are usually thought to 
belong, in their appropriation, to what is in one's 
power to do or forbear : otherwise men do not con- 
ceive either of them a fit object of praise or blame, 
reward or punishment. Virtue is very frequently 
used in the same sense as duty. But to speak more phi- 
lologically, perhaps virtue is a more general term, not 
applicable to so minutely detailed particulars, and re- 
presents rather sorts of action, or the qualities which 
are habits of actions, resulting from repetition of cer- 
tain acts, than individual action. Thus whereas it is 
my duty to pay my neighbour twenty-five dollars, it 
is virtue in me to be habitually punctual and pay all 
my debts that I owe to any people, as fast as I have 
ability and opportunity. And whereas it is my duty 
to sit still and not outrageously and deliriously lament 
while I have a mortified finger amputated, to the an- 
noyance of the feelings of all around me, and the em- 
barrassment of the operator; — also, when my win- 
dow is shattered by hail, to abstain from raving exe- 
crations of my fate ; — patience is a virtue, which is 
a habit of quiet resignation to things over which we 
have no control. — As a particular action is a duty ; 
that sort of action, or a habit of actions of that sort, 
may be called a virtue. Yet virtue is particular as 
well as general : though what is termed a virtue is 
more usually a sort or rank of actions, than that which 
we term a duty, which is mostly designated by some 
particularity of detail. But faith not being any act 
at all, especially a voluntary one, and not follow- 
ing consecutive to volition, how can it be a tribe of 
actions, a sort of actions, a series of actions, a set of 



53 

actions, or a habit of action ? It unquestionably has the 
power of a more general signification than duty has. 
As, it is the duty of a porter to open the gate to let 
me pass, when I am calling on him ; but it is a virtue 
for a man to be attentive and punctual in performing 
the proper offices of his station. 

Some people affect to consider faith as a necessary 
effect taking place in the soul, pursuant to the opera- 
tion of a cause that is supernatural, at the same time 
they represent it as a virtue. As if they should say 
it is a virtue in one sense, for which we are to be re- 
warded and honoured ; in another sense an endow- 
ment from a superiour and uncontrollable power, that 
supervenes in a manner perfectly independent of any 
recourses we may use ; in another sense a gift that is 
obtained by supplication, from a being able to bestow 
it. But now, so many different senses in which to 
consider one thing, are hardly reconcilable. For an 
action that is called voluntary, is very different from 
what follows the fortuitous force in the necessary ope- 
ration of physical causes among inanimate things : 
though some will not allow them to be different in 
kind, but trace all movements and effects of move- 
ment, to physical necessity. This does not concern 
the present disquisition : it is sufficient there is a dis- 
tinction between what, in the human system, follows 
volition, and what follows the impulse of communi- 
cated motion from one piece of inanimate matter to 
another. We make a distinction, because we perceive 
a difference. And upon this distinction and this dif- 
ference, our whole argument is superstructed. T^his 
distinction is as strong as any we have in our moral 
ideas. Nothing is more readily noted than the diver- 
sity of voluntary and involuntary movement, when 
considered in connexion with a sentient being, in one 
instance ; and with an incogitative inanimate mass, in 
the other, as a rock. We readily distinguish the \mo~ 
5* 



54 

inotion of a horse, from the descent of a stone down a 
slope- or the current of a river. 

If faith is not a virtue, it necessarily follows that 
the want or absence of it, is not a vice. For, not 
having faith in a proposition, can imply no ill-will : 
and vice supposes some obliquity of intention. How, 
then, can the want of faith be charged to a man as 
vice ? Faith is no virtue : therefore, being without 
faith, is no vice. If this be so, it is absurd to attach 
reward to one, or punishment to the other. 

Where shall we rank such an expression as, " He 
that believeth shall be saved ; and he that believeth 
not, shall be damned ?" Is this properly to be taken 
in its literal sense ? What would be the consequences 
following such a construction ? — But we have no need 
of investigating the consequences of considering this 
declaration in the literal import : for they are obvious 
enough: and the absurdity of this sense and applica- 
tion, if faith does not include the idea of spontaneity, 
is no less obvious. For if it be but ascertained whe- 
ther faith be any thing that follows choice, we know, 
if it be not, and is not voluntary, it thence necessarily 
folio ws, it is unreasonable and unjust to pronounce a 
man condemned to any suffering in consideration of 
his not believing, or in other words, not having faith : 
and, therefore, in morals the proposition would be ir- 
rational, out of rule altogether, and, in this sense, ab- 
surd. Yet, upon such a principal as that by which 
this proposition is accepted in a literal sense, the 
words infidel and sceptic have become words of re- 
proach. To be an unbeliever has been thought so 
great a vice that it was reckoned no crime to kill 
one who was an unbeliever. Both Christians and 
Mahometans have acted upon this principle. Many 
fanatics, in all ages of history, have showed no more 
signs of compunction or regret while they have killed 
infidels and heretics, than if they were killing wolves 
or wasps. This must have been owing to a persua- 



55 

sion that faith, such as they possessed, was so sublime 
a virtue as to exempt from guilt, and consecrate all the 
actions of those who possessed it : and that the want 
of it was so Hack a vice, that those who believed not 
in this way, deserved death, insomuch that it were no 
offence to kill them. Those who enlisted in the croi- 
sades, and the partizans for that expedition, acted up- 
on this principle. " According to some accounts, ma- 
ny Christians who had been suffered by the Turks to 
live in that city, (Jerusalem) led the conquerors jnto 
the most private caves where women had concealed 
themselves with their children, and not one of them 
was suffered to escape." Such was a specimen of 
their conduct when victorious. Those who martyr- 
ed people for their opinions, justified themselves by 
this principle. Such ruffians have existed in every 
age of the world. Why should the idea of reproach 
have been associated with the words infidel, unbeliever, 
sceptic, heretic ? or with the words deist and atheist ? 
What can either of these be accused of, more than that 
he does not believe the same thing that another man 
believes, or another society of men professes to be- 
lieve ? Yet, alas, are not thes^ words made synonimous 
with enemy of mankind? As if these persons were to 
be shunned as rapacious animals are, and scouted from 
civil society . But how are they to be known ? Per- 
haps it is only an unwillingness to profess some cer- 
tain doctrine, and to support a certain cause, that is 
viewed so culpable in them. For these anathematizers 
want nothing but the signal of compliance, whereby they 
shall be assured of either their co-operation or implicit 
submission ; they then reckon them in the household 
of faith. Look to the plain meanings of these words. 
An infidel means one who does not believe. Believe 
what ? Some given statement. For there is no one 
but believes something — therefore, in this sense there 
can be no such thing as an infidel or unbeliever in the 
world If an infidel mean one who does not believe 



56 

any thing, there is no such character in the world.— 
But you believe that a man lived three days and 
three nights in the stomach of a whale, in the midst 
of the sea, and was then vomited alive upon the shore ; 
you, therefore, are a believer. I do not believe it ; 
therefore I am an infidel. Moreover ; I believe the earth 
sheds more light to the moon than the sun does : 
then I am a believer. You do not believe it ; there- 
fore you are an infidel. So we both are infidels in 
different respects: and all mankind are both infidels 
and believers. How has come about this uncouth as- 
sociation of the idea of malignity with these terms ? 
Men's shortsightedness, and the slight and desultory 
way they have used the words, have been the proxi- 
mate cause. It is the interest of aspiring parties, that 
men be shortsighted and ignorant. Parties of ambi- 
tious deep-designing adventurers, who lead the multi- 
tude by the arts of delusion, have established this as- 
sociation of ideas. Sordid interest has brought it abtiut. 
Every sect makes use of such terms, to similar effect. 
One of the articles of the Mahometans' belief, is, that 
unbelievers are the only persons who are to be pun- 
ished eternally. The punishment of unbelief is to be 
everlasting, to show that it is the greatest of all crimes. 

A heretic is one who has the character of not be- 
lieving what the church or ecclesiastical society where 
he lives, professes to believe and holds forth as the 
standard of orthodox faith. In the current style, he- 
is reputed an incendiary and disorganizing character, 
and his preaching is deemed seditious. 

A sceptic is one that doubts ; does not believe 
things ; but has this small degree of faith, that he most 
usually doubts. He does not at once disbelieve and de- 
ny ; he demurs ; he suspends the determination of 
his assent; does not declare decidedly on one side 
or the other of the question ; has not the degree of 
faith ; does not believe confidently in a proposition 
as so<m as presented ; but hesitates. This scrupulous^ 






57 



trembling genius is called a dangerous man in society 
— more dangerous than the blasphemer. 

An atheist is, literally, one who does not believe 
there is a God. At least, does not believe the exist- 
ence of such a being as is usually called God,— a be- 
ing having will, wisdom, &c. and who is infinite. 
There is lack of faith in such a one ;— he does not 
believe in that proposition which sets forth the exist- 
ence of such a particularly described being :— perhaps 
he openly denies it, and refuses assent to it altogether. 
Such is called a monster. He is represented as re- 
belling against God ; storming the battlements of hea- 
ven ; and bidding defiance to almighty power ! But 
where is the reality of any of these implications ? 
How is any malignity, any ill-will to God or man, 
implied in this critical condition of mind ? He is 
necessarily without faith in that proposition, because, 
there is not evidence enough brought to his view, to 
carry conviction with it, and produce assent. With 
respect to his fellow-men, he is destitute of what they 
possess, with whatever advantages may pertain to it. 
They perhaps have that faith, while he has not.— 
[Though in my humble opinion there are more real 
atheists among those who anathematize the character, 
and cry up the saving efficacy of faith, than among 
those who say nothing and make no stir about these 
things :] What then ? — He will be no more apt to 
have any grudge against them for their possessing 
that, than they will have against him, for being des- 
titute of it. It is not natural for a man to desire faith 
or to crave faith which he has not ; nor to envy others 
the faith which they have got, more than he has. 
With respect to the Supreme Being, whose existence 
is supposed, on such an occasion, to be questioned, 
does it imply any hatred or irreverence ? Does the 
idea of not believing that a being exists, include the 
idea of rebellion against that being? If I do not be- 
lieve a person exists or ever had existence other than in 



58 

name, is it understood, of course, that T hate that per- 
son, and am laying a plan to destroy his life or cur- 
tail his prerogatives or enjoy'ment ? It is the ne plus 
ultra of nugacity to interpret in this way. 

What is a deist ? — A deist is one who does not be- 
lieve all the propositions in the bible. This is the 
common acceptation of the word among Christians. 
He that does not assent to all the propositions in the 
scriptures, (so called,) and admit them on the hypothe- 
sis that they were given by inspiration of God, and 
are of spiritual, divine, supernatural prompture, they^ 
call a deist. But the original meaning denoted one 
who does believe the existence of one God. But 
the received meaning, now, is one that disbelieves the 
infallibility of the scriptures. He has not faith, with 
respect to that proposition, and many other proposi- 
tions in the scriptures ;— he does not believe. This 
is the utmost can be said of hjm. 

Now the meanings of all these names, being no- 
thing but negations, exhibiting only absence of some 
circumstances or relations concerned with the mind 
of man, how can they import any degree of guilt ? 
and with what propriety can they be used as tokens 
of reproach or indignity ? For me, it appears altoge- 
ther as inconsistent to impute them as vice to any char- 
racter, as to impute the shade of a tree, or the shadow 
in which any object is accidentally enveloped, a bad 
quality in that object. For want of faith is no more 
action in a person, than the want of any measure of 
light, is a quality in a tree. 

And yet by observing the manner in which a very 
numerous class of people are apt to speak and write, 
we shall find it an extensive fashion to speak of the 
want of faith as a vice. Hence the phrase, practical 
unbelief 7 But what can be the meaning of this 
phrase ? If we interpret it by the literal powers of the 
signs of which it is composed, we shall even find it to 
be contradiction. For the syllable un is a privative j 



59 

and merely expresses the absence of belief, which 
whether it be called an act or a relation, is thereby 
denied in the phrase. But if faith be ever so truly an 
action, or ever so active, of itself, the privation of it is 
no action : and, to call any thing practical which looks 
directly another way from practice, I am sure sounds 
like contradiction. 

In short, faith is not a virtue ; and the want of it is 
not a vice. A man may have a very small degree of 
faith ; doubt of most dogmas of foreign and remote 
existences ; deny the rest ; and have entire confidence 
in little or nothing more than what he has absolute 
knowledge of; and yet have as much virtue as one 
who believes every thing he hears. He may possess 
as many good qualities ; have as much integrity, gen- 
erosity, industry, charity, or hospitality, as the most 
credulous person whatever. It is not always the per- 
son who has the most faith, that has the most virtue. 
A credulous person or enthusiast may be noted for as 
bad qualities and habits as any other, and be as extra- 
vagant in any part of his social character. Accord- 
ingly, we find some of those who are most aptly cal- 
led sceptics, practicing the social virtues more exem- 
plarily than any bigot, 



60 



CHAPTER VIII. 

t Whether a man can believe what he does not understand and 

cannot conceive. 

UlJR business is not to determine whether one 
can have faith at his option or have no faith, as he lifts 
his hand or lets it rest, consecutive to an act of will, 
and believe or disbelieve at any moment whatever he 
pleases to turn the eye of his imagination upon ; or 
whether he can feel obligation to have faith in any 
proposition or propositions ; — that faith is neither vo- 
luntary nor obligatory, neither a duty nor virtue, 
having been already made appear. But the question 
is, now , whether there can be any such thing as faith 
in a proposition which is not understood. This ques- 
tion remains, if faith be considered ever so fixed and un- 
avoidable an effect, remote from a catenation with will. 
A proposition not understood is either a proposition 
relating things of which we have not determinate con- 
ceptions, or one relating things of which we have no 
conception at all, when the signs can mean nothing 
but other familiar things not supposed to be purported. 
But we may want determinate conceptions either by 
reason that the things cannot be comprehended and 
distinctly conceived, or because the words are ambi- 
guous and the purport is not discriminately and as- 
suredly apprehended. There are propositions which 
afford some ideas that are distinctly comprehended, 
and are defective in others which are not clearly con- 
ceived. There are others, whose terms, taken toge- 
ther, are not understood at all. A man when he de- 
livers me a proposition, may mean a different thing 
from what I understand by it : he may understand it 
aud have distinct ideas connected • with all its signs — 



61 

but I may attach different ideas to the words from 
what he does, and thus understand them in a differ- 
ent sense from what he does ; wherefore I do not un- 
derstand what he intends to convey. Possibly, at the 
same time I believe such a proposition as I understand, 
while he also believes a different proposition, even 
such a one as he understands and intends to stipulate 
to me, — which, through the ambiguity of the words, 
I do not get sight of. Yet he may affect to mean 
what he cannot mean. He may overstrain the power 
of his words and make pretence of signifying some- 
thing which neither he nor I can comprehend, be- 
ing altogether beyond the patrol of our apprehension, 
and which therefore cannot be signified by them : so 
that neither of us can understand it. But words be- 
ing equivocal or accustomed to inconstant use, is not 
the only reason why one person does not understand a 
proposition which another does understand. The pro- 
position may be delivered in a different tongue and 
language from what one has been bred to, or has learn- 
ed ; and then the person who hears it in a language 
he does not know, gets no definite ideas at all, ex- 
cept those of the sounds which are used as outward 
signs. Thus if a man delivers me a proposition in 
the Greek language, and I do not understand that 
language, I do not receive the ideas intended to be 
conveyed ; — perhaps I do not get a glimpse of one 
single idea that he designs to communicate to me. — 
Again ; if another asserts, in my own language, " Re- 
ligion is the support of adversity," perchance I do not 
understand the proposition he goes to make, because 
I take the words in different senses from those in 
which he uses them. I understand by the word reli- 
gion the same thing as virtue or holiness, while pro- 
bably he means, on the contrary, nothing but a pro- 
fession of a certain description of faith and belief, with 
an adherence to an instituted set of ceremony. Also 
I may understand by the word support, (it being; ad~ 
6 ' 



62 

mitted at all events to be used figuratively in this 
sentence) a source of comfort, consolation, entertain- 
ment, and delight, to those who are in adversity ; — 
whereas he may mean by it the means of upholding 
them in the estimate of the world ; so that they have 
the countenance and help of a popular and numerous 
class of their fellow mortals who are more prosperous. 
But if he tells me, an angel of God, from waiting at 
the gate of the palace of heaven, descended to the 
surface of this planet earth, and declared to him and 
several others who were in company tending some 
sheep, that a child, of more than human genius, was 
born of a virgin who had conceived him not by com- 
merce with man, but by the Holy Ghost, — I must 
confess, to speak after the manner of men, he makes 
a proposition which neither he nor I can understand. 
If his purport is to exclude from the significancy of 
the w T ord angel the idea of a human being, (still re- 
taining the power of speech ;) and also all idea of mat- 
ter from God, Holy Ghost, palace of heaven, &c. he 
evidently attempts to mean more than he can mean, 
i. e. to connect with w r ords more than he can connect, 
because he cannot conceive; — for what we cannot 
conceive, we cannot connect with a word. In the 
same rank stands the proposition of the devils and the 
swine, to wit : that a separate person from a man, be- 
ing in the body of a man, spoke, in behalf of a legion 
of other different individuals of his own species, toge- 
ther with himself, all being in the same body, saying, 
'- suffer us to go away into the swine" — and after re- 
ceiving permission from the personage to whom the 
address was made, they all left the man, and went 
straightway into the bodies of a large herd of swine, 
which thereupon ran violently down a steep hill into 
the sea, and were choked to death. This can no more 
be understood than many others of the same structure. 
What is meant by saying it cannot be understood, is, 
that the proposition that is designed to be made, can- 



63 

not be understood ; our natural and ordinary experi- 
ence being denied in the scope of the communication, 
and our words can import nothing more than our na- 
tural and ordinary experience. Whereby, it is diffi- 
cult to apprehend what is intended by the word de- 
vils, if we do not include the idea of matter. But 
some other proposition may be understood : some- 
thing quite different may be understood by this same 
assemblage of signs : — the whole may be considered 
as an allegory — the words being applied not in their 
true, but in a figurative sense, and that unusually caba- 
listical. — The question is, whether there can be faith in 
a proposition not understood ; — that is to say, perhaps 
more correctly, whether such a proposition can be 
entertained with faith ? And to this, the answer must 
be either negative or contradictory of our definition 
of faith, hitherto admitted. We must either deny 
that part of the definition which designates the main 
object of faith as a proposition presented to the under- 
standing ; or else contradict ourselves when we say, 
affirmatively, that we can have faith in a proposition 
which we do not understand : because, while we pre- 
dicate faith, we deny that which we admit to be es- 
sential to it ; and say (in effect) we can have faith 
where there cannot be such a thing as faith. For to 
be presented to the understanding, is to be understood. 
This I think will scarcely be questioned. For what 
is understood without being perceived ? and when a 
proposition is offered, if nothing is known of it but 
the signs that meet the external senses, — the words 
which are heard by the ears, or seen by the eyes on 
paper, are empty sounds, or arbitrary marks, to which 
one may attach any imaginative ideas at random. But 
if certain other ideas are conceived and distinctly 
noted as having been designedly attached to these 
words to be signified by them, we are then said to 
understand the proposition. It is understood ;— that 
is , presented to the understanding. The words are 



64 

not only presented to the ear or eye, but their mean- 
ing, which consists of other ideas, and their connexion 
with them as signs— is presented to the mind. 

If faith is a condition of mind, related, to a propo- 
sition which is presented to the understanding, to wit: 
a condition that includes such a relation, it plainly 
follows, that where no proposition is presented to the 
understanding, can be no faith. — But, being under- 
stood, is the same thing as being presented or exhibit- 
ed to the understanding : consequently, when a pro- 
position is not understood, no faith can exist, relating 
to that proposition. But belief is a degree of faith, 
consequently there can be no belief of such a propo- 
sition. Therefore a man cannot believe a proposition 
which he does not understand, nor any thing which 
he cannot conceive. There cannot be such a thing as 
belief of what is inconceivable. If any one will per- 
spicuously specify what this presenting any thing to the 
understanding consists of, if the thing presented is not 
understood, and will tell me how any thing can be 
understood and not be presented to the understanding, 
or how any thing can be presented to a person's un- 
derstanding, and not be understood by that person, I 
will confess that my scale of arguing is anomalous. 

If faith can be without understanding ; things with- 
out understanding may have faith : — as wheel-bar- 
rows and wind-mills. Neither will it depend upon 
the degree of intellectual power any sort of being is 
possessed of, how much faith he hasi— a cat will have 
as great a quantity of faith as an elephant ; and an 
elephant be as full of faith as a Roman Catholic priest. 

If, then, it does not appear consistent to suppose 
faith can be where no understanding is, it is reasona- 
ble to infer, the object of faith must be exhibited to 
the understanding before any faith about it can be ex- 
cited. And being exhibited to the understanding, 
means being understood ; unless a man can be said to 
understand things which he has no ideas of ? or to have 



65 

ideas without perceiving them : for, to have ideas de- 
terminately connected with signs of ideas, is to under- 
stand the proposition which these signs and these ideas 
constitute. And if this proposition is not presented 
or exhibited to the understanding, I should like to 
know where it is, and how any such thing as faith can 
be applied to it or stand connected with it. 

I know some are apt to contend that men believe 
some things because they do not understand them ; 
and that cases occur, where, for this very reason, that 
they do not understand a proposition, they have faith 
in it, which, if they fairly understood it, they would 
immediately deny all credence in. This argument is 
specious enough : but I say, it is not because a person 
does not understand a proposition, that he believes it ; 
but, that which he does not understand, he cannot be- 
lieve, and that which he understands, he does believe, 
not merely because he understands it, but because it 
has evidence with it overbalancing the contrary : ra- 
ther, the proposition which he does not understand, 
he cannot believe ; but that which he understands he 
can believe ; and he either does believe it, or does not 
believe it, according to evidence. — By saying he can 
believe it, is meant, there is a possibility that it be evi- 
dent, and that he believe it : whereas while it is not 
understood, there is no possibility of its being evident. 
To say, a man not understanding a proposition as it is 
meant, believes it in a different sense, will not avail : 
for a proposition being composed, not merely of words, 
but of certain conceptions or ideas also, to be denoted 
by words, and their connexion with certain words 
which are to signify them, a different sense makes a 
different proposition. Thus, if the proposition affirm, 
a man who was dead, having risen out of a tomb, 
made his appearance erect, with a ghastly visage, ex- 
hibiting the wounds inflicted by his murderer, and 
spoke, with advice to his friends ; it will not avail to 
say you understand it in a different sense, because, net 
6* 



66 

understanding how a dead man could speak, you take 
the words in a different sense from what seems to be 
their literal import, even in such a sense as you can 
comprehend, that is, the man which appeared and 
spoke, was a living creature instead of a dead one ; — for 
in so saying, you confess you believe another proposi- 
tion and not the given one. The proposition which you 
understand, you believe ; and that which you do not 
understand, you do not believe. For, what two pro- 
positions are more distinct than a dead man spoke , and, 
a living man spoke. The latter you believe ; and 
the former you do not believe, because you cannot de- 
ny the idea of life, in the predication of the idea of 
speaking. — Such as are satisfied with the doctrine of 
shades, which supposes a something bearing the 
shape of a human body, retains the consciousness of 
the past actions and perceptions of one deceased, have 
vague notions of personal identity. They seem to 
think that this consciousness and memory, are not 
necessarily adherent to the body which shared in the 
past sufferings and actions : but when they represent 
the apparition pointing to his head, to his breast, his 
side, or otherwhere, to show the wounds inflicted on 
him in battle, or about the time of his departure from 
life ; yet perhaps saying my body lies at a little dis- 
tance under a certain ledge of rocks, at the foot of a 
certain hill, &c. — then they confound themselves. — 
They cannot believe the same body to be in two places 
at the same time. 

Moreover, propositions are made by joining and 
separating ideas, or else mere signs of ideas without 
considering any thing determinately denoted by them. 
The ideas are presumed to agree or disagree when 
such agreement or disagreement cannot be brought to 
an immediate perception ; and this sort of propositions 
is of matters of faith ; in other words the proper ob- 
jects of faith : when if the mind is satisfied with this 
presuming upon a thing not known, there is faith. 






Now if there be no ideas to compare together or to 
ascribe this sort of relation to, certainly no faith takes 
place. — You tell me four thousand angels descended 
from the utmost visible part of the regions of ether, 
not being material bodies but celestial spirits, yet visi- 
ble, having wings at their shoulders, and otherwise 
the shapes of men, sounding trumpets and singing glo- 
ry to the most high. — I do not understand your state- 
ment ; — therefore how can I believe it ? I do not 
know what ideas I am to attach to your words. Such 
as I conceive, you purport to exclude. How can I 
believe what I have not ideas of? You also say, God 
sees things past, present, and future. — I cannot con- 
ceive how things future are seen, though I understand 
very well what seeing things present is. Consequent- 
ly not having ideas of all that you would be at, I can- 
not believe you. 

Some make profession of believing there are crea- 
tures, of a certain description, which they call witches. 
But whether they can really believe such doctrine as 
has been delivered concerning such creatures, is a 
question. I can believe several strange and odd re- 
ports of creatures such as I can conceive, to wit, or- 
ganic masses of matter with life ; and extraordinary 
feats performed by them. But if the elementary con- 
ceptions whereof I make up the ideas of these beings, 
are denied and excluded, no foundation remains for 
such ideas. I can conceive of creatures which are 
very small, and yet have human faculties : and I can 
believe there are such ; that is, it is possible to believe 
it, because I can understand it : though I do not say 
that I do believe it. I can conceive there are crea- 
tures in the shape of a dog, in the shape of a horse, — 
creatures many hundred times smaller, with shapes 
which I never yet saw : I can conceive they are ex- 
ceeding swift in their motion, have cunning, have sa- 
gacity, have judgment, and reasoning ; — nay, even 
have wit, abstraction, invention — the passions, anger 



68 

and envy, and many of the knacks of human art. I 
can conceive of such things ; I can understand such 
statements. For having such ideas, it is not impossi- 
ble for them to combine with any other shape besides 
that of the human body. But if matter be denied, 
what idea remains ? — I then contradict myself if I 
say I have any of these ideas. But when you come 
to be asserting that they make themselves invisible ; 
that they pass through w T alls of brick, stone, or wood, 
in their full size, without displacing any thing ; that 
they are metamorphosed from one creature to another 
at their pleasure or convenience ; — I cannot compre- 
hend such properties of matter ; I cannot distinctly 
apprehend such species' of beings. Now the founda- 
tion of my faith is gone. I cannot believe, because I 
lack ideas. — I cannot conceive how a woman or a man 
can be changed into a horse by putting a bridle over 
the person's head, fixing the bit into the mouth. If 
I could believe such a thing, I might impute to my 
own fault that I have not more frequently the conve- 
nience of a horse to relieve my fatigue of walking and 
to make my w r ay with greater expedition, on certain 
emergencies, in some parts of my travels. 

All the stories of metamorphoses, ghosts, appari- 
tions, witchcrafts, oracles, and ominous prodigies, 
come under this head. They cannot be understood ; 
therefore cannot be believed. Yet there may be such 
as profess to believe them. They may believe what 
they can understand, and clearly make out in their 
conceptions. But what they cannot so make out, they 
cannot believe. For there can be no faith where there 
are no ideas : and where we are not assured or deter- 
mined what ideas are to be understood by given signs, 
we are without ideas in respect to the existing stipu- 
lation ; as well as where we cannot form any concep- 
tion. 

So then men cannot believe that which they cannot 
understand, or which they cannot conceive. If a man 



69 

professes to believe any such proposition as relates 
things beyond his capacity to conceive, his profession 
is without the reality of experience. To make a de- 
claration of faith, is easy : has no connexion with stu- 
dy or deliberation. But the reality cannot be where 
is no distinct conception. 



CHAPTER IX. 



Quf.ht — Whether any evil consequence is to flow from the 
want of Faith in those things which are beyond the verge of 
our influence : which, if we believed them we should have no 
more power to eschew or approach than if we disbelieved 
them ? 



JLiET us suppose that after a run of years and ages, 
the dead bodies of all the individuals of the human 
race that shall ever have lived and died, are to rise out 
of the earth and sea, intire ; however scattered and 
mouldered or converted into other fabrics, all the par- 
ticles and limbs being re-united and established ; and 
having re-assumed their life, sense, and consciousness, 
are to be judged according to the deeds they shall be 
conscious of having acted in their former life on this 
earth; and that this is an established truth, and will 
as assuredly be a fact as the time of our existence will 
elapse. But in supposing it, we, if possible, are be- 
lievers. Let us suppose that although you and I be- 
lieve this proposition, yet a third person, who is a 
neighbour of us, to whom the statement has been 
made, does not believe it, utterly denies it, "and en- 
tertains the proposition with no degree of faith. It is 
not supposed to depend upon our entertainment of it in 
our minds. It must undeniably be a thing which is to be 



70 

brought about by power which is inconceivably trans- 
cencknt to ours, and by means altogether beyond our 
eontrol or influence. Our belief of the proposition, 
does not make the proposition true ; nor does his dis- 
belief of it, make it false. If he believed the event 
would take place, he could not forward it, nor pre- 
vent or delay it, by any effort he could make, any 
more than if we disbelieved it, we could hinder or ac- 
celerate it. Our faith has reference to the reality of 
things, and rather depends on that, than the reality of 
things depends upon our faith. If my faith is well 
founded, real existence ulterior to my faith causes it, 
and not my faith causes real existence ulterior to my 
faith. He does not believe : and the question is, 
whether he is to suffer any evil consequences from his 
want of faith in regard to this statement, or not. And 
to this, the proper answer seems most evidently that 
he is not. For it does not appear rationally evident 
that disagreeable emotions or thoughts are more wont 
to follow as constant effects, this want of faith, than 
agreeable or pleasing ones. 

Yet cases occur, in which painful emotions and 
thoughts have the want of faith for their regular, 
proximate cause. Yet not more frequently than faith. 
For example : I have an only son who follows sailing, 
and has adventured to a neighbouring island about 
sixty miles distant ; in the way to which, is a danger- 
ous whirlpool ; and, though a course with which he is 
not familiarly acquainted, being destitute of a thorough 
pilot, has taken the whole direction of the vessel up- 
on himself. Have heard nothing from him in several 
days — the weather has been bad — and I believe he has 
been drawn to the bottom, — and consequently am un- 
happy. ^My faith is the cause of my misery. My 
wife does not believe this proposition, and therefore is 
at ease. Her reflections are full of complacency. The 
effects of her want of faith are not painful, ^ut the 
reverse. — But, this moment comes up a man who has 



71 

just arrived from the place for which my son em- 
barked. The openness of his countenance exhilarates 
me with a ray of hope ; but transient. He tells us 
he saw the man on the island ; and was sure he passed 
the gulpli in safety. On account of circumstances 
known to myself. I do not believe his report. Here, 
plainly, my unbelief makes me unhappy. The wife 
believes it : and, more confirmed in her opinion, ex- 
periences a new accession to her satisfaction and de- 
light, resulting from her faith on this particular occa- 
sion. Here you see, both pleasant and unpleasant 
feelings are owed to faith and to the want of faith.— 
Still a question remains, whether a person is to suffer 
any other evil consequences of not having faith in 
particular instances of these remote and uncontrollable 
subjects, besides what naturally are inseparable from 
his reflections upon that particular subject concerning 
which he lacks faith ? or, whether any other bad effect^ 
different from these, to take place in his other trains 
of thought or in other parts of his life and experience, 
are instituted either physically or morally, to result 
from such a cause as being destitute of faith in any in- 
stance ? In asking such a question, let me be under- 
stood to except what is instituted by the governments 
of the world of mankind ; which is modified by the 
capricious pretences, and precarious proficiency, of 
such an imperfect progressive being. For it is well 
known that in several countries pains and penalties 
are instituted as punishments for a lack of faith, or ra- 
ther for professing to be without faith, or professing: 
disbelief. F h 

Peradventure there is a sea of ignited sulphur pre- 
pared for the end of the world, somewhere in space, 
in which nine tenths of the human race are to be burnt 
eternally. Suppose I say I believe it :— (but I can 
say 1 believe, if I do not ; or even if^be so as not to 
admit of faith.) Very well— let it be granted that 
I have that faith, to consider it a matter of fact— My 






72 

faith did not make it — no — nor all my powers of bo- 
dy and mind, and those of all the human race, could 
never make it. My believing it, could never be the 
cause of such a production being brought about. If 
my faith is founded on the reality of things, as he who 
has faith always supposes his faith to be and always 
wishes it to be, and which foundation, the more his 
faith approaches towards knowledge in its degree, is 
the more manifest, certainly that is the cause of my 
faith, instead of the reverse : for if it were not sup- 
posed to have existed anterior to my faith, where then 
would be my faith ? what would it rest on ? What- 
ever notions and persuasions I have in my head, do 
nothing towards the support of things without. If I 
believe ten thousand devils are to come at a certain 
day and carry off the human race in baskets to the 
planet Mars, I cannot prevent it. In saying I believe 
it is so, I confess I cannot prevent nor any how in- 
fluence it. You do not believe it. — Your unbelief can 
do nothing towards the nature and constitutions of 
things, which shall make such a thing impossible. You 
cannot order what shall be or shall not be, in remote 
parts of the creation. — The thing is confessedly be- 
yond our line. What consequences are to follow ? 
What thinkest thou that thou deservest to suffer for 
thy infidelity ? Dost thou not feel thyself very me- 
lancholy and deserted, when thou thinkest there is no 
hell in the universe ? However that be, if thou lived 
in some countries — if thou hadst lived in Spain some 
years ago, thou mightest be roasted upon a gridiron, 
or broken upon a rack. — Are men to be tormented by 
that flame for not believing there is any such punish- 
ment ordained ? Was hell made to burn those who do 
not believe there is any ? What should we think of 
that monarch who should erect a guillotine expressly 
to cut off the heads of all those who do not believe 
such an engine exists in his establishments, — and take 
measures to detect them, one after another, and con- 



73 

demn them as for the most capital offence they could 
commit, till none should remain in his dominions who 
could be convicted of being destitute of that faith ? — 
Some sects, however, seem to maintain that eternal 
punishments were instituted upon such principles : for 
the Mahometans make it an article of belief that un- 
believers are the only ones who are consigned to eter- 
nal punishment. And other sects certainly class infi- 
dels in the front rank of the candidates for perdition. 

These objects of faith which overstretch our influ- 
ence, may be distributed into things past, things 
present , and things future. What is past, is incon- 
testibly beyond our power. We cannot undo what is 
done; — or make as if it had never been, what has 
been. There are several things of this sort, of which 
either faith or lack of faith, contristates or perturbs 
one who is capable of reflection. So, if a man has 
lost a purse of money or other valued article out of 
his pocket in time past, and he believes he has drop- 
ed it at a place where it is irrecoverable, or does not 
believe it has fallen into "the hands of an honest man 
who will restore it to him ; his reflections which are 
consecutive to this faith or want of faith, are painful. 
And in one of these instances, his not having faith of 
certain things, may be reckoned a cause, though not 
an operative productive cause, of unpleasant feelings 
w T hich arise from reflecting on the contrary of what is 
not believed, as considering it the real matter of fact 
rather than the other side of the question. 

The like may be said of things present and future. 
Yet among the variety of these classes of objects, some 
instances are to be found, of things, whereof neither 
the belief nor disbelief has these effects following it : 
where if we consider a thing to be, to have been, or 
likely to take place in future ; — or consider it not to 
be, not to have been, or not possible to be in future, 
we feel neither pleasure nor pain in consequence of it. 
Thus, if I believe ever so firmly that^ five thousand 
7 



74 



years hence, the moon shall not be seen at all m our 
heavens, being burst and separated in fragments equa- 
bly distributed in space where they are duly balanced, 
when nothing but the twinkling radiance of stars shall 
illuminate the night ; and another day as firmly dis- 
believe it ; yet, neither in the one instance does my 
belief, nor in the other my disbelief give me either 
pleasure or pain. For, what emotions, whether pleasing 
or unpleasing, arise from the peculiarities of this dog- 
ma, when reflecting upon it, take place as naturally in 
study and contemplation where is no belief nor disbelief, 
the thing not being proposed as an object of faith, as 
where assent is determined. 

Parallel examples may be given of things present 
and past, whether events or substantial existence.- — 
But, notwithstanding it is evident that in sundry 
cases of things present, things past, and things future, 
the want of faith in respect to them is a circumstance 
which is a forerunner to sad and painful feelings ; that 
other pains and deprivations voluntarily instituted as 
punishments to be inflicted in consequence of lack of 
faith, by a superior being, are to follow, does not seem 
to be in any degree evident — moreover, any moral 
institution of this kind, could not appear to us consci- 
entious — and what is not agreeable to conscience, is 
not conformable to the law of nature ; for so far forth 
as men have conscience, their measures of right and 
wrong are precisely those of the law of nature : since 
conscience, arising from sympathy in a being who is 
capable of reasoning, and from reflection on the rela- 
tions and tendencies of voluntary actions, has the im- 
mutable principles of the universal law for its base. 
That a man shall suffer any pain as a punishment for 
what he cannot avoid whether he will or no, is repug- 
nant to our ideas of justice and equity, and therefore 
cannot rationally be ascribed to the institution of a 
just being. We have certain determinate ideas to 
which we particularly appropriate the words, justice. 



to 



equity, and desert, to denote them by. Some things 
are agreeable to those ideas, and some things are re- 
pugnant. Perhaps it is agreeable to our idea of justice, 
that a murderer shall have his life taken from him, and 
that a thief be flagellated. But faith, being no virtue, 
and the want of it, no vice, as heretofore shown, can- 
not be fit objects of instituted reward and punishment 
If a man does not believe a proposition, it is because 
at that moment he cannot believe it — If he professes 
that he does not believe it, it is either because he tells a 
lie, or because he tells the truth : and to say a man 
shall be damned for telling a lie or for telling the 
truth, is a different thing from saying he is to be dam- 
ned for not believing. It may be reasonable that he 
shall be coerced for telling a lie; — but that he be co- 
erced for speaking the truth or for a lack of faith, is 
repugnant to our idea of- natural justice. 

So then, we may reasonably conclude no man has 
ground to be in fear of any instituted or arbitrary 
punishment he shall suffer for being destitute or de- 
ficient of faith in regard to things out of his power, 
unless he is so unfortunate as to believe a very evil 
being governs th£ world, 



76 
CHAPTER X. 

Of the influence Of Passion upon Faith and Probability. 

A HERE arises a question whether faith is not 
sometimes influenced by passion ; and whether we do 
not, under certain circumstances, the more readily 
give assent to one proposition or disbelieve another, 
on account of some passion prevailing in us, that re- 
presents the objects in a light more odious or more 
pleasing than, independent of any emotion, they usual- 
ly appear ? To which, seems very rational to admit 
the affirmative. But this influence is immediate only oa 
evidence. Passion so biasses the mind that the apparent 
evidence is greater or less than it would be estimated 
if the mind were perfectly cool. But, as the evidence 
is, so faith must result. 

That there is such an influence, is seen in numerous 
cases of common life,- — For example, you are strongly 
attached to a certain lady. A neighbour relates, she 
has in more instances than one, evinced a particular 
esteem for another individual, with whom she has 
been observed fondly conversing, and on whom she 
has bestowed tokens of friendship and affection. This 
neighbour, too, is of reputation for veracity. Every 
idea her name can suggest, has its associations with 
some pleasurable idea, in the range of your fancy. 
Her words, her motions, every part of her character, 
you consider exempt from fault and blemish. You are 
not inclined to credit the report, although you cannot 
deny the probability the testimony carries with it, or 
any other evidence that presents itself on the occa- 
sion, — as that such a man lives in your neighbour- 
hood, &c. yet your affection has this hallucinating 
tendency, that it diminishes the magnitude of the evi- 



77 

dence itself, in your view. You cannot believe, be- 
cause you have so high an opinion of the woman, that 
you fancy she is too virtuous to be guilty of what is 
reported. Thus upon what proof, under any other 
circumstances, would not suffer you to doubt, but 
would carry your assent at once as high as belief, you 
now disbelieve from want of thought, and from pre- 
judice which prevents you from looking into the real 
deformities of the object of your attachment. — Like- 
wise if a man is extremely angry at another, he 
will not so readily believe any favourable report of 
him as he would at another time when not under such 
an impression ; and will more readily believe any ill 
of him though the evidence should be less. And 
when a man is in great fear, he is more apt to believe, 
and it appears more evident, some evil is approaching, 
to happen to him, than when he has no such emotion 
in him, allowing the state of things about him is the 
same in both cases. — Thus any strong passion pre- 
vailing in the heart of man, whether love or hatred, 
anger, desire, fear, or despair, operates to increase or 
diminish the evidence that appears to his understand- 
ing, and eventually determines its assent ; — though it 
can have no effect on those facts which constitute the 
ground of the probability in the case, to destroy or 
produce any one of them ; yet it influences the ef- 
fective evidence, or what ultimately appears in the 
conjuncture of assent, and thus modifies the mind's 
opinions. 

It was this cause which produced that remarkable 
effect in the minds of those who, to the number of 
thirty thousands, having been assembled at the com- 
mand of pope Martin the 7th, and solemnly harangued 
by this same Martin and Peter the hermit on the 
importance of an expedition to the Holy Land, cried 
<out with one accord, " It is the will .of God — it is 
the will of God" — Whereupon the whole multitude, 
as well those who did not speak as those who did, be- 
7* 



; 



78 

iievetf not only this saying, but that the minds of that 
multitude actually experienced an instantaneous im- 
pulsion from some celestial and supernatural agency, 
which made them concur in this exclamation/ and that 
the Almighty had just then informed them all, that it 
was His will they should march to w-ar with the infi- 
dels. The passions which were then prevailing in 
the minds of these people, and the circumstances which 
conspired to favour their influence, inclined them to 
believe in such a proposition as this, and made it ap- 
pear evident to them that it was absolutely the will 
of God that they should set out on the proposed ex- 
pedition to Jerusalem, to kill the gentiles and possess 
themselves of the places of the miracles. Their wild 
romantic turn of thought, the novelty of the thing, the 
probability of the delightfully pleasant situations and 
the wealth and power it would lead them to, as indi- 
viduals, enamoured them of the cause. They were 
strangely attached to the project. Such was the frame 
of their minds, which fitted them precisely for such 
an impression. Their phrenzied zeal in the rites of 
enthusiasm, and their hatred of those who inherited 
the places that gave birth to their religion, contributed 
to inspire them with ardour on this occasion, and to 
make them anxiously eager to set out in the prose- 
cuting of the war. Thus they were more ready to 
believe that proposition than they would have been, 
under other circumstances, when most probably they 
would have wholly rejected it : and it seemed more 
evident : — -The evidence seemed greater in favour of 
it. — In like manner at the present day many people 
who, from whatever cause, have a peculiar fondness 
for one party and antipathy to another, come to be- 
lieve some tenets in the doctrine of that favourite par- 
ty and disbelieve those of the other, which otherwise 
they would not: although what chiefly distinguishes th««* 
adherence to a party, is generally nothing more than pro- 



79 

fession of faiVn, yet 'I think this cievotedness sometimes 
carries them to faith itself in particular tenets held forth 
by the party they espouse, and denial of those of others 
— still it is from want of thought, in both cases ; for 
they no more examine the doctrine of one party than 
that of another : — and even where they pretend to 
make show of investigation, it is cramped and made 
partial by their prevailing affections, which operate 
as prejudice, hoodwinking their intellectual sight, 
magnifying in the one case and diminishing in the 
other, what would appear to be the probability of a 
proposition. 

This is a cause which operates to diversify the ap- 
pearance of things when a proposition is offered ; but 
that appearance, whatever it is, has, no less, its im- 
mediate natural effect. Faith must follow the great- 
est evidence which at the present moment appears. 

Conclusions are rashly drawn, and very pernicious 
errors propagated, in consequence of the influence of 
which we are here speaking. 

No fair and thorough discussion can take place 
where is any excessive passion operating to influence 
the train of thought or bias the judgment. Passion 
should be subjected to reason, and not reason to pas- 
sion : for what depends on the use of reason, is de- 
feated by that which interrupts and counteracts reason- 
ing : which is done by any violent emotion, and where 
is an undue agitation in mind, w T hether of love, hatred, 
anger, desire, hope, fear, joy, or despair. 

There can be no fair canvassing of a question where 
~is any inordinate precipitancy of the spirits, that ope- 
rates to warp the judgment to close with one side ra- 
ther than the other, in the conclusion of assent. — The 
passions must be duly attempered and regulated, be- 
fore the mind of man is in a fit plight to explore pro- 
blematical subjects, and adjust the balance of contin- 
gent evidence. And for this reason the study of mo- 



80 

ral philosophy should precede the intenlff pursuit of 
investigations wherein we are to canvass problems in 
such other departments, as metaphysics, history, or 
philology. 



CHAPTER XI, 



Reflections on the influence a mistaken notion of Faith has on 
Civil Society, by an advertence to the consequences that in 
several countries have followed certain ways of conceiving" it. 



▼ ? HOEVER attentively looks into human his- 
tory, and follows the thread of narration through the 
succession of generations and communities, relative of 
their publick transactions, can scarcely avoid taking 
notice of a curious fatality in their general character, 
whereby it is the subject of a remarkable proneness 
to certain strange and uncouth courses of practice, in 
which men seem to have acted, from some secret 
motives, in a manner not clearly to be deduced from 
cbvious or known principles of conduct in human na- 
ture : and that, of this proneness in the common peo- 
ple, those in power and advantageous elevations, have 
taken advantage to rule and manage them to the sub- 
serviency of their particular views of ambition ; 
while the bulk of the subjects are led into many trou- 
blous plights and reflections by this spirit, and suffer 
it as a kind of disease or spirit of infirmity. The cause 
of this, will be found, upon strict explorement, to be 
some notion of faith they have in their heads, which 
having been deiined in a concerted way by influential 
men, according to their interested views, is fitted to 
judgment of the tendencies and powers of 






81 



actions and things, and set awry all their course of de* 
terminations. Thus we shall find some falling pros- 
trate before images, of metallic pacture, performing to 
them the addresses of homage, adulation, and penance. 
— Some, infatuated with the idea of renown and re- 
ward after death, deliriously casting themselves be- 
fore the chariot- wheels of a gigantic molten deity cal- 
led Juggernaut — others, adventuring some thou- 
sands of miles across oceans, to propagate a certain 
sort of doctrine among a people to whom it is utterly 
unknown, (but other is instead of it) into climates un- 
suited to their constitutions, where they sicken and 
die like the frail exotic, under a persuasion it is their 
duty to inculcate such particular tenets in their fellow- 
mortals ; — thus the missionaries from civilized nations 
to distant islands and continents of barbarous heathens, 
fill the world with the sound of their munificent deeds : 
— hence also we see mighty armies going forth against 
each other to stain the green earth with human blood, 
that some sacred tenet may prevail and have the 
strongest multitude of adherents : each party being 
moved by the same principle, but with a directly op- 
posite tenet ; — one king secretly plotting to destroy 
another — with what pretence ? he does not believe in 
the same creed ; and does not train his subjects to 
support the same theories about mystical things — the 
people of one sect and persuasion, seeking to cut off, 
root and branch, the people of another- — one man con- 
triving to exclude or nonplus another, in his pursuit 
of a livelihood — because what ? because that other does- 
not think as he thinks, and believe as he believes. Now 
this is very evidently owing to a manner of defining 
faith, which persuades one it is a duty : — in some 
measure depends upon choice : and plainly contradic- 
tory of what has heretofore been said to explain it in 
this discourse ; wherein we consider faith not an action 
following will, but a condition, complicated of relations 
and aspects of things that appear to the mind of mau un- 



82 



der certain circumstances. A distortive and interested 
mode of defining faith, has given rise to many ex- 
travagant courses, in different societies of mankind. 
This is unquestionably conclusive from what we at 
present observe. For we find that a notion of faith, 
has & sensible effect upon a man's conduct. Several 
odd capricious turns of life are to be traced direct to 
what is ascribed to faith. Now if the limits of obliga- 
tion be those of power, it is plain — 1st, that faith can- 
not be embraced in what a man is under obligation to 
do, seeing it is nothing at all to do, being not an ac- 
tion but a condition or situation of mind made up of 
relations ;- — and 2dly, that, as it is not what a man can 
bring about by an immediate voluntary effort, as he 
can hold his hand in a perpendicular' or horizontal at- 
titude at any moment he pleases — it being not a con- 
dition that he has at command and can always bring 
en at pleasure ; it is not a thing which, immediately, 
he is accountable for. — He can apply himself, or not, 
to examine the grounds and proofs of a proposition ; 
and whatsoever they are in reality, must make its ap- 
pearance to his mind, and have its effect according to 
the established order of things^jiot subject to his im- 
agination or his passions. '^w 

A way of defining faith, thttt has been very com- 
mon amongst men, seems to have been such as has in- 
duced them to consider opinions and persuasions of 
mind by which different persons were distinguished, 
as altogether arbitrary. 

In the time of the croisades, such a notion of faith 
must have prevailed among those who countenanced 
those expeditions. Faith was deemed something men 
could do, or something they could effect, else it could 
not have been considered such a criterion of character 
as to justify men in inflicting death on those who were 
supposed to be deficient of some items of belief, and 
saving the lives of others who w 7 ere judged to possess 
them, or who made acknowledgment thereof. 






83 



Queen Mary and her fanatic train of blood-thirsty 
ministers, had such a notion of faith, or acted very in- 
sidiously upon such a principle ; whereby hundreds 
of scrupulous dissenters were delivered to the flames, 
a sacrifice to the demoniac genius of that unholy age. 
The martyrs, theirselves, by such an illusive notion, 
thought their faith was a virtuous quality by which 
they merited future glory. One of these two kinds 
of definition of faith, must in those times have been in 
vogue, to wit: — 1st, That faith is an act of voluntary 
thinking, or an act of the soul, under the direction and 
control of will, for which a man is accountable ; — or 
else, 2dly, That it is a solemn declaration of one's 
opinion : which is reducing it to formal profession. 

There is reason to believe the leading champions of 
a mysterious system, conscious that faith itself is not 
under their control, nor any others', crave only a stur- 
dy professional adherence. — Shrewd, aspiring advent- 
urers, seeking dominion, make use of the timidity and 
imbecility of mankind, to plant the bulwarks of their 
selfish systems, which to view, is disgusting to a liber- 
al mind, but regarded with a partial advertence to 
their instrumentality by those whose bounded beam 
looks not beyond the weal of their own selves, their 
kindred, and such connexions as are necessary to 
strengthen their establishment, yield an unsocial com- 
placency, characteristic of sordid and illiberal souls. 
Such is the happiness of kings, popes, cardinals, and 
prelates : not that large diffusive enjoyment that 
grows out of philanthropy, but restricted and bounded 
to the low delights of self-conceit, quite out of the 
track of human perfection. On the other hand, viewed 
through the medium of delusion by the eye of enthu- 
siastic ignorance, the satisfaction they afford, is com- 
mentitious, and dashed with all kinds of trouble. 

Every one of those leaders, that are engaged by 
self-interest in promoting the establishment of any set 
of opinions, is hostile to all innovation, and with deep 



84 

distrust and fatal countermine, ferrets every other par- 
ty that makes advances to a prevalence, or aspires to 
predominate by insinuating a change of the current 
notions of his subjects. 

" In the year 31, Nero set fire to the city of Rome, 
and threw the odium of that execrable action on the 
Christians who abode there, whom under that pre- 
tence, he caused to be wrapped up in the skins of wild 
beasts and worried and devoured by dogs, others to 
be crucified, others to be burnt alive. 

" Under Antoninus, the Christians were banished 
from their houses, forbidden to show their heads, re- 
proached, beaten, hurried from place to place, plun- 
dered, imprisoned, and stoned. 5 ' 

" In the year 250, in the reign of the emperor 
Decius, the Christians were in all places driven from 
their habitations, stripped of their estates, and tor- 
mented with racks." 

After the Christians had gained the predominancy, 
they were no less intolerant to others. Europe was 
long tortured by the oppressive manacles of ecclesias- 
tical tyranny, and convulsed with the bickering jea- 
lousies of sacerdotal influence. A reformation was be- 
gun by one Martin Luther, in Saxony, in 1517. — 
" The pope, who lived in Italy, had declared himself 
the sovereign of the whole world. The parts of it 
which were not inhabited by Christians, he accounted 
to be inhabited by nobody ; and if Christians took it 
into their heads to possess any of those countries, he 
gave them full liberty to make war upon the in- 
habitants without provocation, and to treat them with 
no more humanity than they would have treated wild 
beasts." 

Such usurpation awoke some to a sense of the im- 
posture by which their natural rights and dignity 
were invaded, and incited them to abet the efforts of 
one whose genius aspired at a reform, from other 
-motives. 



85 

In effect of this recourse to make the state of tiling* 
better, and to disencumber civil society from the fangs 
of a monstrous hierarchy, much blood was spilt. " To 
intestine divisions on account of religion, ^vere added 
the horrors of a civil war, occasioned by oppresssion 
on one hand, and enthusiasm on the other." — " Iji 
1525 a great number of seditious fanatics arose on 
a sudden in different parts of Germany, took arms, 
united their forces, and made war against the empire, 
laying waste the country with fire and sword, and 
committing every where the greatest eruelties. The 
greatest part of this furious mob was composed of pea- 
sants and vassals who groaned under heavy burdens, 
and declared they were no longer able to bear the 
despotic government of their chiefs — Hence this sedi- 
tion had the name of the rustic war, or the war of the 
peasants." 

The baleful commotions that have been excited in 
the world and the immense numbers of human lives 
which have heen sacrificed by this fantastic notion of 
the freedom of faith and of th<* importance of profes- 
sions, is enough to fill any reflecting mind with horror 
and amazement. — Yet Luther retained some of the 
popish absurdities in his creed. — " The divines of the 
Lutheran sect, maintain that, after consecration, the 
body and blood of our saviour are substantially present, 

together with the substance of the bread and wine ; 

called consubstantiation or impanation!" 

In earlier times those fanatic wars called the croi- 
sades, were set on foot by papal authority and influence., 
These commenced in 1091, and continued near 200 
years. The object of these was to take possession of 
the places where Christ is said to have performed his 
miracles and finished the labours of his mission. These 
places were called the Holy Land. Nine different 
croisades (or expeditions of this sort) were successively 
prosecuted by several powers of Europe, popes, kings, 
emperors, or councils.— The first was set out by the 
8 



86 

Council of Clermont influenced by Martin the 7th, and, 
at its first start, numbered an army of 1,000,000 men. 
— "Croisaders were to be exempted from prosecutions 
for debt, from interest on money, and from taxes. 
Those who engaged to go on that service, distinguished 
themselves with crosses of different colours worn on 
their clothes, ordered, it is said, by the Council of 
Clermont, and were thence called croises or crossbear- 
ers, of whom contemporary authors tell us there were 
£,000,000. The English wore them white; the 
.French red ; the Flemish green ; the Germans black ; 
and the Italians yellow." 

To kill infidels was accounted no crime. People 
beino- infidels, was thought a sufficient cause to kill 
them. Therefore no quarter was to be given to those 
whom they found inheriting the places of which they 
sought to make a conquest. 

In times of peace, individuals who were averse to 
lying, have not been safe : but have been murdered 
for "their faith, or supposed opinions. " 19,700 
persons are computed to have suffered martyrdom 
with St Irrenaeus at Lyons, under the empire of Sevc- 
rus "6666 soldiers of the Theban Legion are said to 
have been martyred in Gaul." " One historian reck- 
ons 16,000 Abysinian martyrs, and 150,000 others, 
under Dioclesian. There is scarce any sect that does 
not pretend to its martyrs. Christians, Mahometans, 
Heathens, and Idolaters,— all have their martyrs. 

But "Teat as the number is, which we have on re- 
cord, it is supposed a still greater number eludes our 
discovery.—" In the ancient church, the acts, sayings, 
sufferings and deaths of the martyrs, were preserved 
with care, in order to be read on certain days, and thus 
proposed as models to future ages. Yet notwithstand- 
ing all this diligence, we have but very little lett oi 
them— the greatest part of them having been destroy- 
ed during the persecution which Dioclesian carriea on 
for ten years, with fresh fury, against the Christians. 



87 

Numerous were the martyrs in England, during (he 
lt6h century. — About the close of Cromwell's time, 
in the reign of Henry the 8th, was formed the whip 
with six strings; — being the decree of a convention of 
prelates who agreed that all w T ho should believe certain 
articles, six in number, which they particularly pointed 
out, should be burnt 

The six articles condemning all to be burnt who 
should hold them, were — 

1. That the body of Christ was not really present in 
/the sacrament, after consecration. 2. That the sacra- 
ment might not truly be administered under one kind. 
3. That priests who entered into holy orders, might 
marry. 4. That vows of chastity entered into, upon 
mature deliberation, were not to be kept. 5. That 
private masses were not to be used. 6. That auricu- 
lar confession was not to be used in the church." — A 
sublime notion of faith these prelates must have enter- 
tained, which implied either that men had the power 
of modifying their own persuasions and opinions at 
pleasure, or that a man could " hold" articles which 
were contrary to his sentiments ! — Many became vic- 
tims to this scourge. — Moreover, the persecution was 
greatest in Mary's reign. The persecution under this 
reign, began in 1553. — The whip with six strings was 
still kept in use. — Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer were 
sent to dispute with twelve men of Oxford and Cam- 
bridge, who being too strong winded for the three, and 
getting the last word in the dispute, these three, on 
being asked whether they would recant, answering 
that they would not, still maintaining their opinions, 
were judged heretics and condemned to the fire. — Bi- 
shop Bonner tore out Thomas Tompkins's beard by the 
roots, when in prison, and several times cudgelled him 
severely, for no other cause but his not assenting to 
the doctrine of transubstantiation ! 

Query — Whether this assenting, he would have 
enforced, was mental or verbal ? For it seems, surely., 



83 

if he had common sense, he knew he could not be cer- 
tain of the real faith or acquiescence of the other's mind, 
which, whatever it might be, must elude his penetra- 
tion if the man should make an unequivocal statement 
with a view to his health rather than a regard to truth. 

Hugh Laverock an old decrepid man 67 years of age, 
and John Apprice, a blind man, were both consigned 
to the fire, for being true to the sentiments and faith 
they had in them, in their profession. That is, for 
declaring they did not believe the fashionable doctrines 
of that day, but deemed them contrary to scripture. 
They were both chained to one stake. — Three women, 
named Catharine Hut, Joan Homes, and Elizabeth 
Thackwell, were apprehended and sent before Bonner, 
for not conforming to the order of the church, and not 
believing the real presence of Christ's body in the sa- 
crament of the altar. They were all fastened to one 
stake at Smithfield, and their bodies consumed by fire. 
— Sometime after this, thirteen persons, consisting of 
eleven men and two women, were all burnt together in 
one fire at stratford-le-Bow, chained to different stakes 
— for the same crime, of denying assent to the common 
prescribed creed. — Hundreds of other instances, of 
equal atrocity, stand on record. 

Such are the consquences of a mistaken or misrepre- 
sented notion of faith. At this present day, it is often 
found to be the case that a person is thought to merit 
something by faith, and be worthy of better usage, if 
he believes some important articles than he would if he 
did not. There is a numerous class of men in this 
country, having great influence in this way. Even 
now, if one makes application to some of our leading 
men for the office of superintending a seminary of 
learning, or the humble occupation of instructing chil- 
dren, his faith concerning some mystical topic, shall 
be considered a very essential point in his qualification. 
If he asks for the presidency of an academy, the post 
of a tutor in a college, a professorship, or sometimes for 



89 

the menial station of a doorkeeper, — some of the first 
questions put him, in probing his accomplishments, 
shall be, do you believe in divine rev elation ? — do you 
believe the Gospel of the evangelists ? — do you be- 
lieve the scriptures ? &c. The leaders want only such 
as consider these to be proper questions, although they 
do not consider them so theirselves. Consequently, if 
they get negative answers, they promptly refuse their 
patronage, and say, you can have no employment here. 
Such is the effect that either a slack or a deceitful way 
of defining this idea, has upon society. The common 
people who have suffered by it, have overlooked the 
source of the evil when artful men have craftily put 
into use an irregular assignment of this word ; when, 
theirselves being aware that faith is not a thing under 
the direction of human will, yet publicly adopt and 
make current a definition which leads the commonalty 
to consider it as a part of character for w T hich they are 
to give an account. If an erroneous notion of faith has 
such consequences— if such are the consequences of 
wrongly conceiving the nature of faith, how import- 
ant is it that men be duly cautious in settling the pre- 
cise items of that composite idea to which they habitu- 
ally attach this word ! If faith is thought to be of such 
importance as to stamp the character and to fix the 
destiny of individuals and nations ; and if mankind are 
thought worthy of death or of coercion for their faith, 
if it be of this or that particular sort; it is certainly of 
urgent moment to exactly define it 



7* 



90 



CHAPTER XII. 



On the folly of referring* Moral Modes to Rules and Maxims sup- 
ported only by Literary Authorities, and which have no evi- 
dence but what is drawn from Tradition or ancient Writing- : 
and the absurdity of testing Actions by such Standards. 

JjfXORAL modes originate from real existence. All 
our ideas of reflection, are derived first from such as 
are experienced through the sensory by the medium 
of corporal impressions. Mixed modes, and those 
which we call moral modes, made up of the diversi- 
ties of men's voluntary actions, consist in reflective 
ideas arbitrarily put together in determined compasses, 
if not really experienced by sensitive observation in 
such identical lineaments. The precise archetype may 
not have been found in real existence ; yet the ele- 
ments of which it is constituted, have all been first 
known there : e. g. justice, theft, ingratitude, hospi- 
tality : which, either have all been observed in actual 
existence ; or every one of the particular movements 
or ideas that go to compose them, have been so 
observed or experienced. If we had no experience 
of voluntary and free action, we should never frame 
any such ideas. If men had observed no pattern, in 
real existence, of any particular sort of action, they 
never would have thought of limiting any by defini- 
tions and specific ideas. If these are derived original- 
ly from what we experience in the powers of real be- 
ing ; they are also found to have their exact patterns 
in real life. Afterwards they have been formed without 
any such patterns being before us. Now, these not on- 
ly have their foundation in actual experience ; but 
their consequences are reckoned to be real : they are 
constantly referred to reality. Whatever enters into 



91 



the composition of these notions, is observed before 
in reality of things. Several circumstances and rela- 
tions being put into one idea, were, under this single 
view, denoted by one word, for the use of marking 
precisely the distinctions of human conduct, assigning 
to its several modes their just measures of estimate, and 
awarding their proper degrees of praise or blame, pun- 
ishment or reward. For this purpose men have 
framed laws prescribing penalties and recourses of co- 
ercion to certain actions which they name, and either 
define, or leave to the common sense of the people to 
construe their names, the meanings of which are sup- 
posed to be well known to all. Some modes which 
are very incident, are inconvenient in a society of men : 
some are dangerous to the members of the communi- 
ty — others are praiseworthy. The people of each 
community pretty well agree among themselves in 
the definitions of those words they use to designate 
such species' of action as they have frequent occasion 
to note. A definition of this kind in an ancient book 
written by people of a community which is now wholly 
extinct, may be different from a definition of a similar 
action, used by a living nation at this present day ; 
and the punishment annexed to the same action, ma} 7 " 
also be very different. Of which, the reasons are very 
obvious and conclusive : for the habitual manners and 
usages of communities, fluctuate with their govern- 
ments and with various other circumstances ; so that 
in distant periods of time two societies seldom coincide 
in such particulars. Actions are referred to those 
definitions to determine whether they are of this 
or that species distinguished by a general name or 
predicamental term — as theft, usury, justice, robbery, 
murder, trover, fraud, piracy, revenge, charity, tres- 
pass, hospitality, assault, clemency, gratitude, slander, 
&c. ; — and as they come under any particular head by 
agreeing, in the number and quality of the items which 
constitute them, with those determinate collections of 



92 



distinguishable notices, thus defined and designated, are 
referred to laws fixed by consent and authority for 
regulating a community, to determine whether they 
are deserving of this or that punishment or reward 
instituted in such laws to be adjudged to the agent. — 
Every community has its own laws. If these laws be 
conformable to the law of nature they are right ; and 
are properly said to be good laws. For rational men 
have a standard within themselves to which to compare 
all moral institutes, and by w T hich they even decide 
upon laws, and determine whether they are just or 
unjust. And this is their consciousness of right and 
wrong, according 1o their knowledge of the law of 
nature. For they have an idea of universal justice, 
which is not referred to, nor governed by, any human 
institutions ; and which is independent of their exist- 
ence. This becomes a superior predicament, and a 
standard to which we may refer all moral modes. If 
this be so, it is but folly to refer moral modes to fortu- 
itous and adventitious standards among things without. 
How trifling, then, is it to refer such modes to passages 
of ancient writing, the sense of which is obscure, and 
whose original is a problem in history ! 

Some, however, consider ancient writing a rule to 
measure the merit and demerit of prescripts and ordi- 
nances, without regard to the relations which the pro- 
positions in that writing hold, to their conscious sense 
of the natural principles of equity. If they give defi- 
nitions of actions, those definitions may not be proper 
standards for us. Many adopt them and dignify them 
with the authority of standards, merely for their anti- 
quity. They reckon truth and propriety require age : 
that they are a long while in coming to maturity : and 
that, like ale, the examples, decrees, and sentiments of 
men, are not fit for use at first, scarcely worthy of no- 
tice, but gain value by time, and are to be approved and 
admired when they are old. Hence, what is the most an- 
cient, they esteem the best of all. This is reversing the 



93 



scale of human improvement, and supposing mankind 
to be continually degenerating. — Others adopt them for 
some other consideration, such as the manner in which 
they are supposed to have originated : as, for example, 
when those who wrote them are said to have been 
inspired ; — influenced by something superior to human 
power ; — and the matter which they wrote, to be di- 
rectly dictated by perfect wisdom, from above. — Now, 
faith is by some people reckoned a moral mode : the 
propriety of which, I question, because faith does not 
partake of voluntary action. It consists in little else but 
relation ; and has not so much a moral as a metaphy- 
sical character. — So they say Abraham is the father of 
the faithful ; — ih&iby faith he inherited blessings which 
were promised ; — and it is intimated that whoever shall 
have faith like Abraham, i. e. of the same kind or de- 
gree, shall be alike the favorite of heaven, and be 
gloriously rewarded for that faith. But if faith is 
no action, it is not correctly classed among moral 
modes. — But that which renders it signally irrational 
to refer moral modes to this sort of standards, to deter- 
mine what measure of praise or blame is appropriate to 
them, is that these standards theirselves are first to be 
established by faith : These traditionary canons re- 
quire faith to give them their appearance of authority : 
They require faith to show they have any authentici- 
ty. And faith is not the same in all person* ; or rather, 
the same faith is not in all persons. — One man believes 
that the original real purport and intent of the writer, 
was the same as the literal meaning of those passages 
to which he is referred, in his own language : anoi 
does not. The writing was original in an unknown 
language, the speakers of w T hich perhaps are extinct ; 
— and it has been transferred by translations from one 
tongue to another. One man believes the translation 
was correct, rendering the true meaning clear and 
precise : another does not ; but believes there were 
many errors and inaccuracies in the translation. Some 



94 



profess t© believe that the writing was first dictated by 
infinite wisdom, and power more than human, (which 
they call divine) : this they call inspiration. — Some of 
these profess to believe also that this same influence 
directed the translators : They infer, therefore, there 
could be no error, Others do not profess to believe 
this ; and do not give it any credit : and indeed it is not 
generally pretended by the advocates. How can such 
things be accepted standards for all people ? How, 
then, can the maxims and prescripts of ancient writing, 
which have no other support but the names of their 
supposed authors, or the circumstance their being found 
in that writing, be proved to be universal standards to 
test the modes of human conduct? Can we not make 
laws and rules for ourselves ? — Or must we appeal to 
Moses, Confucius, Isaiah, Solomon, or St John, to know 
whether v/e proceed upon true principles ? Must we 
have recourse to the writings under the authorities of 
these names, to ascertain the propriety or impropriety, 
the rectitude or obliquity of our conduct or our opini- 
ons ? — There are other laws besides what they wrote. 
— There is a law written in our own bfeast — no less 
than our idea of justice, — our moral sense, our consci- 
ousness of right and wrong ; — our sympathy, which is 
a physical principle inherent in our constitution. Cer- 
tainly the writings of those ancient men, are not the 
models of all other laws, ordinances, rules, precepts, 
.and doctrine — We have a law even to test these, by 
which we are satisfied whether they are good or not. 
How do we know whether the maxims and rules of 
those men are right, — or whether they are good? — 
What does one mean, when he says the sentences of 
St. Paul are noble, true, just, excellent ? Does he 
mean merely that they were dictated by supernatural 
influence ? — This were saying one thing, and intending 
a different one. — We say there are excellent good mo- 
rals in the writings of Solomon, Job, St. Paul, and St. 
James, How do we know it ? Hew do we know 



35 

them to be good ? It must be that we compare them 
to a standard within us, which we possess independent 
of them : This is no other than our common sense of 
propriety, truth, and rectitude ; which we should have 
whether we ever saw those writings or not. We 
should deem them good, if we did not think they were 
the works of those particular men, or if we* never 
found them in the bible. This results from our con- 
science, and from our acquaintance with the con- 
stitutional order of things. If any maxim in the 
writings of those authors, is good ; it is not so merely 
because it was written by such an author. The excel- 
lency of a thing does not wholly consist in its deriva- 
tion. If these things are good, it is self-evident they 
are. ascertained to be so by 3 something else but their 
being found in the writing of ancient times, and writ- 
ten by these authors. To account for it otherwise, we 
but simply say, ancient writing is good because it is 
ancient writing — The sayings of Solomon are good, be- 
cause they are the sayings of Solomon — A pail is good 
to hold water because it is a pail. This is no reason- 
ing at all : it is but repeating an idea to assign a cause 
for one of its ingredients. It is no more than a solecism, 
making an entire thing itself, the cause or reason of a 
part of that thing : For a pail is a vessel fit and useful to 
hold water, and fitness to hold water makes a part of 
the idea of a pail. — Man is a rational animal because 
he is a man. But a rational animal is a man ; se 
it is no more but saying, a rational animal is 
a rational animal because he is a rational ani- 
mal : an argument not much less instructive than, 
what is, is right, because what is, is. — It is at least giv- 
ing a cause where it is perfectly useless ; — or assigning 
that for the cause, which cannot be the cause. — We do 
not deduce the excellence of these writings from the 
divinity of their source, and argue, these writings are 
derived from divine inspiration, therefore they are good 
— or, in other words, these writings are good because: 



96 

they were dictated by the spirit of the Almighty : for 
we mean something else by the words good, true, and 
excellent, than such a peculiar derivation ; — besides, 
many things are written and spoken which we deem 
true and useful and instructive, which are not ascribed 
to any such source. We are more apt (within our- 
selves), and with greater appearance of propriety, to 
argue, in the contrary course, that these writings 
were suggested or dictated by divine impulsion, be- 
cause they are good ; — thus deducing their divinity 
from their excellence ; — though, that this is not con- 
clusive, may be maintained in a great measure by the 
same principle, to wit, we have some other test of truth 
and importance. For if there be any thing either true, 
excellent, proper, sublime, or instructive, in the writ- 
ings of Moses, Solomon, Isaiah, Job, Jeremiah, John, 
Jude, Peter, James, Titus, or Timothy, it is known 
to us by some other clue than its being written a thou- 
sand years ago, or being written by these very men. 
Their names do not make it so. 

In the name of common sense, what if these men 
had said the very contrary of what they did say ? 
What if those very passages of their writings which 
we deem the best, and most weighty truths they de- 
livered, had happened to appear in our translation the 
reverse of what they now are ? should we call them 
good ? Should we say, they were given by inspiration, 
and therefore must be good ? There is a standard of 
truth, there is a standard of excellence, disconnected 
with all writings, ancient or modern, — not depending 
on any thing of the kind. Some, however, may argue, 
they came from God ; therefore they are good ; be- 
cause God is good, and whatsoever he imparts, is right, 
is supremely good. — But how do they know God is 
good ? Is it not because we derive good things from 
the operations of nature in all things around us, and 
enjoy what is good in consequence of his agency, that 
we judge he is a good being ? We ascribe goodness to 



97 

God, yet it is not a substance, but a mode. But how 
do we get the idea of goodness or benignity ? Have 
we not first an idea of an intention, an idea of a cer- 
tain action, following that intention, producing happi- 
ness? And is notour idea of benignity derived from 
this ? Do we not therefore get our ideas of benignity 
and beneficence from our own reflections on the moral 
actions of men ? We suppose a substratum or substan- 
tial principle, and to this we ascribe such ideas of intel- 
ligence, goodness, power, wisdom, justice, &c. as we 
have, which we have gathered from such tilings as we 
perceive or experience, together with our imaginative 
idea of infinity. — We say God is the first cause ; — but 
we do not comprehend his nature. — When we say God 
is the first cause, we have no determinate ideas in our 
mind but that of the sound of the word God, and that 
of the relation of cause and effect. These are the only 
determinate ideas. — Whatever other ideas are excited 
by these words, are only such as have been casually 
associated with those, or incidentally attach themselves 
there ; and therefore are various in different men. 
Thus several persons ascribe to him different qualities : 
and some esteem he acts tyrannically and vindictively ; 
that he visits the iniquities of the fathers upon the 
children ; that he is angry with the wicked ; that he 
executes vengeance upon his enemies : — Others, that 
he cannot hate ; that he loves all his creatures ; that he 
has no other human passion but love. Some believe he 
alters his mind ; repents him of the evil he has decreed ; 
and pardons those he has devoted to perdition : — Others, 
that he cannot lie ; that he cannot change ; that lie has 
no variableness nor shadow of turning. The scriptures 
are reckoned the word of God : and the Christians 
suppose all that is contained in the Old and New Tes- 
tament, which constitute what they call their Bible, is 
Scripture. But all this was written in a foreign and 
ancient language, by men who have been dead a thou- 
sand years, and translated into modern languages by 
9 



98 

men. That they have made a true translation, is not 
certain ; neither is it proved. It is not pretended that 
those men were inspired ; so that this proposition — ' the 
Bible is correctly translated/ is not put on equal ground 
in respect to faith, with other propositions in what is 
supposed the effluence of celestial inspiration. Neither 
is it known that the language or languages in which the 
writing was done, remained the same, and not essen- 
tially changed, (seeing all languages change), till the 
vocabularies were compiled, by which those transla- 
tors were guided, and therefore that those vocabularies 
specified precisely the same appropriations of words. 
If the originals of the scriptures are enveloped in so 
deep obscurity, by what principle shall we make them 
the touch-stone of doctrines ? If theirselves be uncertair , 
iiow can they prove other things ? Self-evident pro- 
positions alone are unquestionable tests of all others. 
Self-evident truth only, is the ultimate measure which 
at last shew r s us demonstratively whether any particular 
proposition is true or false. Now, if there be nothing 
in scripture (as such), that is self-evident ; self-evidence 
belonging not to any thing written, but being the in- 
separable attendant of intuition ; how can scripture 
prove any thing else true or false ? For if any thing 
be true or false and be capable of being proved and made 
appear so to a reasoning mind, it appears by other 
means than scripture. But it is said the scriptures are 
the word of God, and, therefore, paramount to all oth- 
er perceptible proof, are the true and uncontrovertible 
test of all truth. But now what proof have we that 
the scriptures are the word of God? For this proposi- 
tion is not directly revealed to us by God from heaven, 
that the scriptures are the word of God; and why 
should we believe that which is improbable, without a 
direct revelation of it from God ? We cannot ; in short, 
we cannot believe that which is improbable. Proba- 
ble is appearing to the mind likely to be true: appear- 
ing apt to agree, when we do not actually see that agree- 



99 

merit. It requires something extraneous to a conirnu- 
nication, to prove that communication to be a revela- 
tion from God. For it must be something besides a 
communication that asserts or shews the source of that 
communication. It cannot be this communication, to 
wit, this proposition or contexture of propositions which 
Is spoken of, whereof we affirm something when we 
say God or man was the author of it, that determinately 
and conclusively shews the source of the whole of this 
communication. For a proposition cannot intelligibly 
affirm or deny any thing of itself. — A proposition af- 
firming any thing of itself, is a solecism, —or is without 
sense or meaning. Therefore such a proposition, this 
is the word of God, evidently must relate to something 
else separate and distinct from these very words that 
constitute this affirmation ; otherwise we confound the 
sign and thing signified. And the proposition— -all 
t' at is written in this book is revelation from God> 
requires something else to prove itself to be a revelation 
from God : for though it may be good reasoning to say, 
this book is revelation from God, therefore it is true; 
— yet it cannot be good reasoning to say, this proposi- 
tion, " what is written in this bookis revelation from 
God" is found in this book which is said to be reve- 
lation from God, therefore this proposition is a re vela 
tion from God : for such a preposition must either be 
self-evident, or proved to be true by the help of some- 
thing else that is self-evident, before it can prove other 
things. 

But the alogy of this reference, is most conspicuous 
when the sentences considered of authority to test 
actions and doctrine, are unreasonable, and cannot 
theirselves stand the test of conscience. If the stand- 
ard be unreasonable and unconscientious, how can it 
be employed to determine whether other things are 
reasonable ?— Take for an example, this sentence—" He 
that believeth shall be saved ; and he that believeth 
not shall be damned." And let it be supposed to have 



100 

reference to some given doctrine that is prescribed, to 
be believed or disbelieved. Suppose this to be under- 
stood in a direct literal sense, and the source of it to be 
divine inspiration. Which is most probable, that men 
deserve damnation for not believing a report, or that 
the sentence was erroneously translated ? There is 
yet a possibility that the passage was originally allego- 
rical. We have reason and conscience for our guides, 
which teach us that a man does not deserve damnation 
for not believing, nor reward for believing. Indeed 
it is no law at all, for actions ; ; — for believing is no ac- 
tion, nor is forbearing to believe, a default of an action. 
— Many people infer strange things from scripture. — 
They infer they ought to fight, and kill infidels and 
heathens — They infer that they ought not to do works 
of charity and munificence, because the pride of good 
works incurreth damnation — Some infer that they 
eught not to marry. 

Yet however admirable and just are some apo- 
thegms in the scriptures, and fit to be observed as rules 
to direct our conduct ; how can we adopt for true stand- 
ards to test character and doctrine, those which are 
actually contradictory, one of another ? Here the folly 
and absurdity of this reference, are too palpable to be 
overlooked. How can two things of this kind be 
called good, which are contrary? What avail the 
examples of prayer, set by the Apostles ? Of what 
worth are these, as models, when they are in plain 
opposition to the inculcations of Jesus Christ ? Is it 
possible to admit such things as our superiour models 
and guides of life, and rightly appreciate his preaching? 
What if the apostles enjoined long prayers, and set 
examples of long and public prayers, while Jesus Christ, 
hisself, expressly disapproved them, and in the most 
unequivocal mariner enjoined secret and short prayer ? 
When thou pray est, said he, (addressing his disciples) 
enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shi*t the door, 
pray to thy father who is in secret; and thy father who 
seeth in secret, will reward thee openly. — Again 



101 

H When ye pray, ye shall say, — Our father who art in 
heaven, hallowed be thy name, — thy kingdom come, 
thy w T ill be done on earth as it is in heaven," &c. — Thus 
teaching them how to pray, and what to pray — that is, 
in what manner they should pray, and with what words 
they should pray : giving them the most simple and 
sententious model of prayer that the languages of the 
world ever afforded. At the same time he strictly 
cautions them against being as the hypocrites when 
they pray, who love to pray where they can be seen 
of men — and against imitating the heathens, by using 
vain repetition, as if they were to be heard for their 
much speaking.— Now, what if the apostles, after the 
departure of Christ, got a habit of gathering themselves 
together in certain houses, at night, and praying aloud, 
and brought prayer-meetings into vogue, in which they 
carried on praying upon a large scale ? What though 
they took into their heads to inculcate long, fervent, 
importunate, and public prayer ; wherefore they re- 
commended it in their writings, and rode from place 
to place, praying frequently with the brethren and in 
the churches ? — What right have we to copy their ex- 
amples or follow their precepts, seeing they are at open 
variance with the preaching of Jesus Christ ? How 
can rational men take both these two different and 
contradictory parts of scripture at the same time, for 
their rules or models ? For it is impossible to believe 
two opposite propositions at the same time : as much 
impossible as to believe and disbelieve the same pro- 
position at once, or for one body to be in two places at 
the same time. Therefore if a man believes, what 
Christ preached, that men's duty is to use short and 
secret prayers and no other ; then surely he cannot 
believe, what is deduced from the examples and preach- 
ings of the apostles, that they ought to use long and 
public prayers. If he believes one of these statements 
to be true and right, he certainly does not believe that 
the other is. 

9* 



102 
CHAPTER XIII. 

Of Solecisms, contradictory Propositions. 



S: 



IGNS are frequently put into propositions, in 
such a way as to be contradictory of one another. — 
In written as well as oral discourses, we sometimes 
find expressions so connected as to contradict and ex- 
clude what would be understood by their proper and 
usual import. This manner of putting together signs, 
produces absurd propositions, and what may be term- 
ed soleciswis. This often arises from a vague applica- 
tion of words, without distinct conceptions for them 
to denote, to connect them with ; when we attempt 
to signify something that cannot be signified, by rea- 
son that neither the person speaking nor the person to 
whom he speaks, can comprehend it. 

There are certain limits to our conception, beyond 
which, whatever we may make pretence of express- 
ing by words, we have no idea of any thing. — 
Words were framed to denote ideas in those who use 
them, or to excite ideas in others to whom they are 
addressed. They could never be designed to excite 
any ideas but such as are possible to be excited in the 
souls of men. At any rate, they are adapted to no 
other than those ideas men are capable of apprehend- 
ing. Whenever we proceed to represent by words, 
any thing beyond this, we inevitably run into con- 
tradiction. Therefore all those propositions which, 
making use of words, purport to affirm or deny things 
which are inconceptible, and which therefore words 
cannot signify, always carry a manifest absurdity with 
them. They are unintelligible, incomprehensible, and 
if examined critically, will be found to be contradic- 
tory of themselves. One part of the proposition 



103 

will contradict the other. The same thing will be 
affirmed and denied of another ; or contrary subjects 
will have the same predicate ; else the predicate will 
contradict itself, by joining things which are not com- 
patible. For when that which is not, is affirmed of 
that which is ; or that which is, is affirmed of that 
which is not ; a solecism naturally arises : since it 
must be tantamount to denying existence of that 
which M For what is not conceivable, is the same 
thing in respect to those words which denote exist- 
ence and are used in affirming existence, as what is 
not in being : because words exclusively signify things 
that are conceivable, that is, they signify only ideas.^ 
Such like propositions are, — God made something 
out of nothing— God made the universe out of no - 

thing. — All the worlds came from nothing He 

gave existence to the creatures— He gave us exist- 
ence—He gave existence to all intelligent beings- 
He brought us forth into being— God is all in all— 
Thou art from eternity to eternity— His substance is 
within the substance of every other being — He filleth 
immensity— God sees futurity, &c. &c. 

In the first of these propositions, making, which is 
affirmed of the agent, is also denied. For the verb 
making signifies an idea which contains in it the idea 
of something already existing, together with that of 
voluntary exertion in a separate agent, eliciting such 
application of it as to produce a new combination. 
The signification of the verb making, implies the idea 
of something really existing, constituting the materials 
out of which something is to be produced or framed : 

and, in sense, the dogma will amount precisely to this 

God did not make something out of any thino- He 

did not make the universe out of any thing — All the 
worlds did not come from any thing. This is, in ef- 
fect, to assert they were not made. In the idea of 
making, is implicated an ex quo as well as a per 
quod : if we do not conceive any thing to make a 
thing out of, or with, we cannot conceive that anvthinjr 



104 

is made. The relation to such a thing is so intimate 
and necessary that it is. essentially implied in the idea. 
In the next place, one part of the predicate is sepa- 
rated from another which cannot subsist without it, 
whereby two ideas are spuriously made, one of which 
naturally implies the other in it ; as if we would make 
two things out of one which is indivisible, and affirm 
one to be given to the other. For existence cannot 
be given to creatures— creatures exist before any thing 
can be given to them. When a creature is in being, 
it cannot have existence given it : and before it exists, 
it can receive nothing. Existence is not transferable 
from one thing to another. So this is evidently using 
words without distinct ideas. For what does exist- 
ence signify, without creatures? and what does crea- 
tures signify, without existence} Yet they are sepa- 
rated ; and herein is contradiction. 

Of the same rank are those of the succeeding ex- 
amples, which relate to existence. 

Thou art from eternity to eternity— What is 
meant by this word eternity, when it is repeated ? 
What means the preposition from, when put between 
the verb art, and eternity ? What can we understand 
of passing from endless duration to endless duration? 
For all the idea we denote by eternity, is endless du- 
ration. We can scarcely conceive of two endless du- 
rations ;— we have a very imperfect conception of 
one. To what purpose then do we speak of a person 
being on the way from one eternal duration to another 
eternal duration ? The intent cannot properly be, that 
the person originates in one, and continues till the 
commencement of the other ; and in whatever point 
of view we consider it while we allow all the terms a 
regular application, we shall find the expression has lit- 
tle or no sense to it. 

God is all in all, has as little sense. How can one 
thing be all things ?— and how can all things be in all 
things ? Perhaps the intent is, God is all the substance 



105 

that there is in all things ; which is no more than say- 
ing— GW is all things., i. e. the name of all things, is 
God ; — meaning only, that the word God is synonimous 
with the word Universe. It is at least a* jumble of 
sounds without perspicuous import. — His substance is 
toithin the substance of every other being, is contra- 
dictory, and is parallel to two bodies being in one place 
at the same time, or one body being in 'two places at 
the same time. For how can one substance be in 
every substance— i. e. be every where ? Moreover, 
how can one substance be in another substance ? The 
smallest being, we will suppose, is an atom,— the small- 
est possible portion of material substance. How can 
another distinct substance be in this substance ? It is 
an incomprehensible and unintelligible hyperbole. Ve- 
ry like is the effect of joining ideas that have a manifest 
incongruity, as in asserting an effect to take place upon 
a thing which is not susceptible of it : when, for in- 
stance, an action is affirmed, which its object cannot 
receive :— in which cases, one part of the predicate 
revolts at the other. As, hefilleth immensity. The 
idea of filling, is irreconcilably repugnant to the idea of 
immensity. Immensity cannot be filled. What is 
expressed by filling, is inadmissible to immensity : for 
immensity is space considered with the idea of infinity, 
which is impossibility to be ended or limited. So it 
is nothing less than saying, he filleth that which is 
impossible to fill. He doeth, and yet this cannot be 
done, therefore he doeth not. Here the contradiction 
cannot be overlooked. 

Into this rank falls also that proposition which makes 
future things objects of sight or intuition. Some say, 
God sees all things present, past, and future :—God 
sees futurity : that is, the scene of things which is 
possible to take place in future, or which we suppose 
will take place. How can one see that which is not ? 
Either sight or intuition has its object or objects upon 
which it passes : and when we say any thing is seen, 



10G 

the present existence of the thing seen, is as necessari- 
ly implied, as the operation or circumstance itself of 
seeing. But futurity does not exist. To say, therefore, 
that God sees futurity, is to say he sees what cannot be 
seen : that he sees what is not in being. — The proposi- 
tion of the trinity, there are three persons in one God, 
is an instance of contradiction ; and the same as three 
are one, and one is three. — Testimony can do nothing 
towards the reconciling of a thing which is manifestly 
absurd, and contrary to common sense, — with such as 
exert their reasoning faculties. — -What if 5000 papists 
assert that a loaf of bread was turned into flesh — and 
this without altering its texture or modalities ? — that 
what appears to be a loaf of bread, is really the flesh of a 
man who died near 2000 years ago ? Men may not 
fight or oppose them ; yet, when their eyes are open, 
they cannot avoid knowing that a snowball is not an 
apple, and that black is not white. 

Now, how r can such propositions command faith? 
How can we believe these, since we cannot compre- 
hend any determinate purport in them. They are a 
jargon of tokens without determinate significancy. — 
There is impossibility with what is asserted. — How can 
any degree of assent take place in such cases, seeing 
the subjects are not presented to our understanding ? 
We may have faith in other things, — but not in these 
which we do not understand. 

There are afloat numerous marvellous narrations, or 
reports of uncommon facts stated to have taken place in 
times past, which though composed of sundry simple 
propositions, and not to be called intire contraries, 
have yet so many contradictions in them, so much 
incongruity amongst several of their ideas, and are so 
discordant with all our usual experience and our know- 
ledge of causes and effects, that they appear altogether 
chimerical, and not possible to be true. — For example, 
I am told the body of a man, a corporeal system, which 
was divested of life and sense by torture, rose from the 



107 

earth, and, after issuing from a stone sepulchre, ascend- 
ed through our atmosphere, till human eyes lost sight 
of it ; and the same body, animated with lite, afterwards 
appeared to divers persons who recognized it ; and, 
refitted with the power of speech, held discourse with 
them. The incidents here related, appear impossible : 
being contradictory to what we know of the proper- 
ties of substances. — Likewise in another instance if a 
report comes abroad that a man named Mahomet, bo- 
dily ascended several million leagues above the surface 
of this earth to a place called the third heaven, and 
heard a person called Gabriel detail to him a list of 
propositions which he registered, and formed thereof 
a book ; all this is so foreign to any thing that we ever 
have observed, or inferred from what we know, and 
some of the terms are so vague, that it seems natural 
to conclude it a gross fable.— But when I am told, and 
required to believe, five thousand men besides several 
women and children, were fed with five small loaves 
of bread and two little fishes, I am presented with 
ideas that have no conceivable agreement ; but are 
naturally and irreclaimably repugnant to each other. 
For a small fish evidently means, one less than a man's 
body. The cubic area of the stomach of a man when 
distended, is at least one-sixteenth of that of his whole 
body. A small loaf also is evidently something less 
than the bigness of a man's body. But here are but 
two small fishes, and five small loaves, — and five thou- 
sand men. It is, then, impessible that they should be 
filled, i. e. have their stomachs filled, by these : for 
even allowing the cubic content of each of these seven 
pieces of matter to equal that of a man's body, one of 
them could fill but 16— and five times sixteen are but 
eighty : and what comparison has this number with five 
thousand ? — It is physically impossible. As much so 
ts for a peck measure to fill a bushel. 

Whoever, therefore, shall warily examine those hy- 
pothetical doctrines about which so much stir is made 



108 

in the world, will find that they have little or no solid 
meaning, and consist mainly of a distortive and hyper- 
bolical use of signs, referring them to what they cannot 
signify, or else contradicting one word by another, it 
men would make use of plain natural sense in ad their 
.applications of words, and follow reasonfin all their ac- 
tions, they certainly would realize all the benefits that 
can be pretended to flow from such doctrine. 

Besides those propositions which are really absurd, 
and which will not bear unravelling, without disclosing 
a contradiction of what is imported by some of their 
terms ; several others also are reputed to be absurd, 
which bv a critical examination will not be found to 
be so Many are these commentitious absurdities re- 
ported by those who advocate theories which are built 
chiefly upon such dogmas as are really absurd. Some 
are quoted to shew, by deductions, the consistency oi 
opposite doctrine no better founded than on the very 
sort that is condemned.— A proposition may be useless, 
and yet not absurd. It may have little or no conse- 
quence in our speculations or practice ;, and yet may 
not have absurdity in it. One part of it may not con- 
tradict another; neither "may the words be without 
determinate and distinct ideas for their meanings.— A 
body of men very numerous and popular in the civi- 
lized parts of human society, are notably apt to repre- 
sent several propositions as absurd, and to endeavour 
to make them appear such, by sophistically drawing 
inferences that set them in a bad light ; many of which, 
in fact, have no absurdity in them ;-e. g ■ Matter is 
eternal. Brute matter may cause something supe- 
rior to itself. Matter can produce a thinking be- 
in* The will determines itself.— Some such propo- 
sitions are no more absurd than the very contrary ones, 
to supnort which, their absurdity is pleaded ; and some 
are not absurd at all.— -I do not say that these com- 
mand direct assent, that they can be objects of full assu- ; 
ranee without elucidation, or be in all cases believed S 



109 

but I maintain they are regular, comprehensible, sus- 
ceptible of explication, and not palpably inconsistent in 
their parts. Two principles are clear. — We cannot 
comprehend the operations of causes — We cannot con- 
ceive the beginning of any thing from nothing. — 
Whence comes that vivid agitation of atoms that is 
called fire ? cries one. — Whence (reply I) comes fc the 
motion of these vast orbicular bodies which are 
careering in the indefinite expanse ? The truth is, we 
cannot conceive the beginning of all motion. Suppos- 
ing a body, great or small, to be at perfect rest, we 
cannot conceive how it can ever put itself in motion. 
If any thing else puts it in motion, we cannot but con- 
ceive it a substance in motion. We cannot conceive 
how one thing, without itself being in motion, can 
produce motion in another. Thus far we can trace the 
causation of motion : We can conceive that one body 
being in motion, is the cause of another body's being 
in motion. But the motion in one, must be conceived 
to be prior to the existence of it in the other. Any 
substance that moves another, we can conceive to be 
nothing but a moving substance. When one body 
moves another, what we perceive is this. We per- 
ceive one body which was at rest, to be now in motion ; 
and we either perceive or do not perceive another body 
in motion coming in contact with the former, the im- 
pulse carried in which contact, is judged to be the 
cause of the motion in the latter body, and this motion 
the effect. But the motion that constitutes the excite- 
ment, w r e cannot conceive. What I mean by conceiv- 
ing, is, having a distinct and determinate idea. There 
is a body, e. g. an eye-stone, in which is perceived no 
motion. At once it darts forward in the acid by which 
it is circum fused. This is motion ; — which is as great, 
i. e. as forcible and swift at the first instant of our per- 
ceiving it, as ever after. And all the account we can 
give of it, is, that we perceive motion in that in which 
we did not perceive any motion before. For rest is 
10 



110 

nothing but the absence of motion. The word rest 
implies nothing but a negation of motion, and merely 
signifies not moving. If it be a distinct idea, it is by 
comparison with others, therefore is a relation ; and^ 
depending upon the comparing of different things toge- 
ther, comprehending a diverse view, is not a purely 
simple idea. Yet perhaps there is no real rest. We 
perceive motion in one thing, and we say it is in mo- 
tion. We do not perceive motion in another thing, and 
we say it is at rest- — there is no motion in it. Such 
are the boundaries of our perception : and we speak of 
what we perceive, and of what we deduce therefrom. 
\ et perhaps there is nothing in the universe but what 
is in motion. To an eye before which all the secrets 
of nature stand unveiled, perhaps there is no such thing 
as rest in the universe. Suppose there is a body at 
rest on the surface of this globe : for instance, a marble 
lying on the floor in the room where we sit. That 
marble, in our language, is at rest. No motion is per- 
ceived. There is rest there. Perhaps there is motion 
in the minute imperceptible parts that compose the 
marble. This is beyond the fetch of our perceptive 
power. Human sense can no way reach this. It is, 
however, thought by some that every atom in the uni- 
verse, is perpetually moving. Moreover, the great 
globe of the earth itself, to whose surface the house 
is fixed, is constantly revolving or spinning round upon 
its centre. In this relation, all things that are attached 
to its surface, are carried forward through space in this 
circumvolving direction, at the rate, at least, of 15 de- 
grees, or 900 miles, an hour. Therefore this marble 
also among other things, is in motion very swift through 
space, that we perceive nothing of.- — Again. This globe, 
besides circumvolving on its axis, is revolving around 
the sun, the centre of the great compass it describes in 
the heavens, and this at the velocity of sixty-eight 
thousand miles an hour. So that the marble is jour- 
neying very rapidly in another direction in the expanse,- 



Ill 

at the same time that it is tracing this circuit of a breadth 
equal to the diameter of the earth, which in the effect 
of the other motion, becomes spiral. Furthermore, 
there is another motion superior and more general, and 
which controls these motions in respect to their prevail- 
ing course in open space, inasmuch as it must have a 
tendency to make it still more spiral, or with another 
involution of its spires or undulations ; and that is a 
motion that embraces not only the earth, but together 
herewith the sun and all the attendant planets. The 
central sun hisself wheels his stated evolutions round a 
krger body which attracts him in the same proportion 
as he attracts his attendant planets ; and in this career-, 
the planets and comets, all keeping their regular dis- 
tances from him, are the subjects of the same progres- 
sion, all involved in the same swiftness of motion- and 
the same course. Thus our marble, (it being necessa- 
ry that every thing that appends to a body moving, 
must move with it) has also a sweep by which it is 
passing very swift through space in another direction 
still. And thus we may proceed in the same scale by 
reasonable supposition to several other such modifica- 
tions and ranks of motion, and, in our imaginations, in 
infinitum ; wherein we suppose this great sun round 
which our sun revolves (with his retinue,) k a planet, 
in its turn, to a more distant and more massy centre, 
and taking with him his threefold ranks of satellites, 
careers his destined rounds in company with other com- 
plicated systems. The like we may say of their cen- 
tral body, and so of the next. Now none of these mo- 
tions is perceived at all by us. — All these motions are 
totally imperceptible to us. Yet they exist. Some of 
them have been demonstrated. But we can neither 
see nor feel them. It seems evident then, that all 
matter in the universe is always in motion. For if the 
great bodies move, the small ones which adhere to them, 
move. When any thing moves, it carries with it what- 
soever appends to it;— thus giving it absolute motion. 



112 

The same may be said of any body it influences by ite 
attraction and keeps within a steady distance from itself. 
If the earth moves, every particle in its constitution 
moves, and at the same rate. If the parts of the earth 
move, the vegetables which cover it move ; and all 
moves that is attached to its surface : the houses move ; 
— and, with the floor of this house, the marble that lies 
on it. — Therefore this marble which lies upon this floor, 
to our apprehension at perfect rest, has all the courses 
of the several ranks of great bodies in the universe. 
That wherein we perceive no motion at all, and which 
gives us the idea of rest, is yet continually coursing 
with indescribable velocity. What, then, is at rest, in 
rerum natura ? Is it not probable, as I before inti- 
mated, that there is no absolute rest in nature ? It may 
fee said hy SOine that motion could not be distinguished 
without rest, nor rest without motion ; they being cor- 
relative terms; and that rest implies an allusion to mo- 
tion ; and motion an allusion to rest. It is unquestioned 
that motion is a simple idea which distinguishes all 
those bodies wherein it is, from those wherein it is not, 
perceived. But were there no such idea as motion 
experienced by us, rest w T ould not have a name. Mo- 
tion not being known, it is evident that bodies would 
not be considered under such a respect : finally, rest 
would not be known. More of our simple ideas are 
dependent upon another than we commonly imagine. 
The condition of these two ideas is the same as that of 
darkness and light. Light is one simple idea, and 
darkness only the privation of it. Darkness expresses 
nothing but not light ; — and rest expresses nothing but 
not motion. Light is a simple idea, and cannot be 
defined : and motion is a simple idea, and cannot be 
defined. Their causes undoubtedly differ more in the 
manner of their operation than in the essence. The 
idea of light is produced by moving matter ; and the 
idea of motion is produced by moving matter. Now, 
motion is supposed to be in the cause of the perception 



113 

©flight. Indeed J reckon it to be the procuring cause of 
Jight and atmosphere. Matter and space might have 
-existed before. How is it possible for the human mind 
to dive into the origin of motion ? — Fire itself consists 
of motion. — Caloric produces heat. What is caloric ? 
— Sort of air. — What other can it be than aerial sub- 
stance ? Where heat is, motion is. Now, how comes 
this species of air called caloric, to produce motion in 
other bodies ; as other portions of air, and other sub- 
stances ? Nothing can produce motion in another thing, 
before itself is in motion. [This I speak of material 
substances that we perceive.] Therefore this same 
.-caloric must have motion in it. Well ; whence came 
that motion ? This is the neplus ultra of all our re- 
searches after the original excitement of motion. May 
we not conclude that motion is eternal and without 
beginning, as rationally as that any thing else is so ? 
How can we prove that motion has not existed as long 
as matter has existed ? And how can we prove that 
moving matter has not existed forever? Will it pre- 
clude an intelligent being? — Why so? It is said, it 
there at any time existed matter without any thing else, 
things must ever have remained so ; for no superior 
being could Jbe produced by matter. Therefore there 
must either have been two distinct beings from eter- 
nity, — an incogitative and cogitative being; or else 
the incogitative must have had a beginning ; since an 
incogitative being could never produce a cogitative. 
But how do we know this unless we know what a 
cogitative being is ? It is as easy for us to conceive 
that an ineogitativ£ being produces a cogitative, as that 
a cogitative heing produces an incogitative. We can 
as easily conceive how matter can produce God, as how 
God ean produce matter. Theproducing of the thing 
Is as feasible in respect to our power of conception, in 
the one supposition as the other. All the assurance we 
have of either, is faith, or imagination y — but distinct 
•apprehension we ha v£ not Where^ then, do we espy 
10* 



114 

the absurdity of brute matter producing its superior? 
Where is the solecism of saying any thing produces 
another thing that is superior to it ? Look at the ve- 
getable and animal creation. Put two or three dimi- 
nutive melon seeds and a quart of manure into a heap 
of mould, and see what they will produce. Will they 
not produce something superior to the said seeds, quart 
of manure, and heap of mould. What is more unlike 
than the thing produced ? And yet does it not come 
in a direct line of causation, a series of effects, [still the 
ojyeration being obscure and imperceptible], a plain 
arrangement of facts, incidents, and appearances, as 
any subject whatever, can present, in all other respects? 
— So a piece of matter may be supposed to produce 
another, superior to it. It may properly be said to 
produce, and to be the cause — for it is one particular 
cause — a t least id unde ; — for the original of things 
said to be begun or brought into being, is aptly divided 
into several particular things indispensably requisite to 
their production. 

We cannot easily sever the idea of producing from 
the idea of motion. We may allow that matter can- 
not produce without motion. We can well suppose 
that the matter which produces is moving matter. 
But we cannot conceive motion to exist without mat- 
ter. To perceive motion it is indispensable to per- 
ceive something that moves. Yet matter may be the 
cause id unde : and motion theper quod. One is as 
essential as the other : but only, as we can conceive 
matter separate from the idea of motion, yet cannot 
conceive motion without matter, it is more manifestly 
absurd to say motion is the first cause of matter than to 
say matter is the first cause of motion ; and though it is 
not absurd to say matter is eternal, or that matter 
and motion are eternal ; yet it is obviously so to say 
motion is eternal and matter not : for therein we should 
deny our idea of motion, which we cannot separate 
from some conceivable thing that moves.— Where 



115 

then is the mighty absurdity in supposing matter to 
have been always, or in saying it had no beginning ? 
Certainly there is no more absurdity in it than in saying 
it had a beginning ; for neither one nor the other can 
we conceive. Successive generations of animals and 
vegetables are superior to their originals. Mind is in 
a state of progressive melioration. That which follows 
another thing, is called Effect : and that which is fol- 
lowed or succeeded by it, is called Cause. The present 
state of all things, is the effect of the state of all things 
in the moment before this : so is it the cause of the state 
©fall things that shall be in the moment after. We 
know little of cause and effect, more than that one fol- 
lows after the other, except that association of ideas 
designated by the correlative import of the words. The 
mind which has existed, was the cause of the mind 
which exists now. If those vulgar and unexpanded 
minds, which have been in times past, had not existed, 
the enlightened minds that are now, would not be. 
Therefore those minds were causes of superior ones. — 
So long as we cannot comprehend the operation of 
causes, what great things do we know of the nature of 
those two related things, cause and effect, but that one 
succeeds the other — to wit* that one takes plaee first 
and the other afterwards — except that indeed we are 
accustomed to import a reciprocal reference by the 
words themselves ? — which touches not the essence of 
the things as substantive beings, at ail. — In the first 
instance, we see here a congeries of dead shapeless 
matter. Next, takes place a beautiful organized mass ; 
— a vegetable ; a fruit with delicious taste and variega- 
ted appearance. Perhaps there is nothing of substance, 
that has not existed before. All the particles have ex- 
isted before : they only have a new arrangement, and 
other degrees and modes of motion. So we see mat- 
ter may produce its superior, in a particular instance. 
Why may not matter, then, produce all the excellen- 
ces in the universe ? Most probably there is nothing 
but matter and mode in the universe. Under mode 



116 

must be included relation. Mode comprehends our 
ideas ; the operations of matter that produce those ideas ; 
and whatever changes take place in the world. Of the 
operations of matter, we perceive, that is, we have an 
idea, of none, but perceptible motion : and therefore we 
cannot conceive that its operations consist in any thing 
else but motion. For the same reason we cannot per- 
ceive that motion which produces our ideas. We can 
only perceive the effect, which is sensation and what 
ideas come thereby. — If relation consists in a comparing 
of our ideas, it is mode. But we have a distinct idea 
of relation, abstracted from what is essential to the ope- 
ration by which it is educed : wherein, by a metaphy- 
sical view, we make it a fixed object of the understand- 
ing, detached from all considerations of any sort of 
effort or movement. But this metaphysical way of 
viewing things, is itself a mode. — Matter comprehends 
whatever substance we can either perceive or form any 
notion of. It is distinguished by resistance or inter- 
ception to the approach of two sensitive parts of our 
body, as any parts of two fingers, or of our hands. This 
is realized in some species of matter about us : the 
atoms of some species are diffused. — Morever, it is 
cognizable in perceptible masses of every species. But 
It is conceived to be in every particle of matter; and 
this conception is the boundary of our conception of 
material substance. Whatsoever exists besides this is 
space. But space being neither substance nor mode, 
is not conceived to exist without conceiving matter to 
exist : for we cannot conceive of a vacancy between two 
masses of matter without conceiving those masses to 
exist : consequently, the very conception of space, being 
an incident of our conception of the existence of matter, 
we cannot consistently say it is a subject of real existence 
of itself. By saying it is not mode, is meant it is not figure 
nor motion ; but the conception of space may be In- 
cidental to our conception of substance, without itself be- 
ing an afiection of substance*-— To return : it is plainly 



seen that a mass of haute matter under certain circum 
stances produces that which is its superior, in many res- 
pects. — A mass of rich earth and an apple seed in it, docs, 
under certain circumstances, produce, in process oi time, 
an appletree loaded with delicious fruit. Now this is 
superior to a lump of mould and an apple seed. And 
is it impossible, is it inconceivable, is it untenable to 
admit, is it absolutely absurd to suppose, that at a cer- 
tain point of duration past, no intelligence existed, and 
nothing but a mass of what we call brute matter, (ad- 
mitting the circumstance of a motion of its atoms) and 
that, within the compass of that mass, existed the pre- 
cedent, the sole remote cause of all the excellence in 
the world ? Is there zr.y vc^re absurdity than in say- 
ing a paltry heap of dirt with an appleseed in it, is the 
cause of a beautiful tree hung thick with rich fruit ?— 
Nevertheless, in supposing motion, we suppose space 
too, for motion cannot be without space. Self-evidently , 
there must be pure unoccupied space, as the sole me- 
dium of the motion of any solid particle. — We may 
suppose several things are eternal, — as space, motion, 
and matter: that is, without beginning. Tcrus, they 
are plainly without beginning; for we see no be- 
ginning to them; neither can we form any such 
conception as their beginning. — Speaking of a thing 
that exists, or has existed, substance is very commonly 
meant ; though actions, thoughts, and places, exist also ; 
but such things are evanescent or else closely depend- 
ent on substantial being. When, therefore, I say it 
may be supposed nothing existed but a mass of brute 
matter, I mean no other substance, and none of those 
diversities of secondary qualities with which we are 
acquainted ;— -notwithstanding at the same time we may 
imagine motion, — and also space which is a void be- 
tween two particles whereby is a possibility of their 
moving : and which, though not an affection of sub- 
stance in the same sense that motion is, is a considera- 
tion that is incidental tQ our idea of substance ; for 



118 

can scarcely conceive it possible for a piece of matter 
to change its situation but by a vacuum. Some will 
have it absurd to suppose two eternal beings. They say 
infinite beings. They are apt to imagine, any thing that 
is eternal or which was always before any thing else, 
is of course possessed of powers superior to those of 
all other things. For, say they, the cause must be 
superior to the effect. They think the source of ex- 
eellent things, must contain th£ identical excellences 
themselves, that ever transpire.— -But much depends 
upon the sense in which we use the term infinite, and 
the thing to which we apply the idea. For the idea of 
infinity is sometimes applied to duration, and sometimes 
to extension. To be infinite in duration, is not the 
same as to be infinite in extent. Infinity of duration 
and infinity of extent, are two very different things. 
It is no contradiction to say two things are eternal, 
though there is contradiction in saying two things are 
interminable. The proposition, matter is infinite in 
extent , absolutely excludes and denies the proposition, 
space is infinite in extent. Therefore in this sense to 
say matter is infinite and space is infinite, is flagrantly 
absurd. While yet space, motion, and matter, may all 
be infinite in duration, without any more inconsistency 
in the supposition than to suppose one of them is so. — 
Matter and space cannot be severally infinite in point 
of extent : the infinity of extension precludes the infi- 
nity of expansion ; and vice versa. Yet the compound 
of matter and space combined or intermixed, may be 
infinite. No contradiction would take place in such 
a dogma : it were merely to say, the universe is bound- 
less, or is without bounds ; which perfectly answ r ers to 
our conceptions, which confessedly being very narrowly 
limited, can find no such bounds. For what is this 
famous idea of infinity, of which so much noise is made, 
but an endless addibility, or continued possibility of 
adding a numerical item of a conceivable portion of du- 
ration or space, or of any thing else, to whatever numr 



119 

ber of them we have comprehended, without ever com- 
ing to any stop or hindrance, even in our imaginations ? 
It serves very little in the proving of any thing ex- 
cept the paucity of human intellect. It is also contra- 
dictory to say each of two distinct beings, is infinite in 
poiver. For if one being has all the power in the world, 
certainly another has not. 

There are absurdities which are not specious, nor 
requiring an application of the discerning powers to 
discover them ; but so overt that they seem to consist 
only in a slip of speech. Of this rank are such as are 
called bulls. Some of these, which are conditional, 
may be exactly proved by a transposition ; — as that of 
the Indian — if all stories are true, somebody lies: 
which, though clear enough without any exemplifica- 
tion, may, by transposing in this way, — \iscmiebody 
lies, all stories are true , fully display all the grossness 
of its barbarism to more sciolous speculators. — Some 
nations are more noted for bulls than others. The 
Irish have been particularly noted in this way: but 
others are perhaps as liable to them. We find many 
specimens of Dutch, English, and French, as well as 
Irish bulls. — The best definition of a bull, is one which 
contains an exact example of the thing to be defined : 
such as, a bull is a male cow ; which is a perfect illus- 
tration, by being a complete bull, in itself; — the ideas 
male and cow being openly at variance, and one must 
be denied by the affirming of the other ; — or rather, in 
other words, one must be excluded by the other from 
the same subject of which the other is predicated, or to 
which it is ascribed. 

From these varieties of contradiction, I would ex- 
cept irony, wherein the meaning is taken to be the vfcry 
contrary of what is literally imported by the words 
spoken ; which is a figure of speech, that is often applied 
to very valuable purposes. Here is no deception or 
illusion ; because whatever is said; the purport is in- 
stantly understood to be the reverse. 



120 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Of vague and insignificant words used at random with pretenc? 
of great earnestness of intention. 

W ORDS are often used without any fixed mean- 
ing. To use phrases, of which men do not concur ill a 
settled significancy which is the same at all times and 
in the minds of speaker and hearer, is not uncommon. — 
Our ears are every day assailed by a set of formal 
expressions, and words of solemn sound but uncertain 
meaning, which in one man produces one effect and in 
another a different one. A body of theologians and 
their followers, make abundant use of such kind of talk, 
with whom nothing is more familiar than such phrases 
and terms as effectual calling, — sanctification, — re- 
generalion, — regeneration of heart, — regeneration 
of spirit, — special grace, — sufficient grace, — effectu- 
al grace, — spirit of grace, — spirit of faith, — trinity 9 
— experience of religion in the soul, — holy ghost, — 
spirit of prayer, — glory to God,— faith on the Loi~d 
Jesus Christ, — redemption, — evangelical truth, — 
resurrection, — heaven , — h ell,— devil, — seraph, — and 
many others, by which, those who utter them, we may 
rationally presume, have no definite, determinate, and 
distinct ideas in their heads, which they uniformly 
signify. — This seems to proceed very commonly from 
the conceit of ascribing extraordinary virtue to certain 
sounds, as if some important effect were to be brought 
about by the frequent uttering of particular sets of words, 
and some weighty concern depended upon the inter- 
changing of them, without regard to any precise limits 
of their significancy : for which reason, little pains .are 
taken about explaining or defining them ; since what- 
ever fantazies happen to come into people's heads at 
the moment they hear them uttered, the efficacy cf the 



121 



aounds is supposed to be the same, among those who 
are in the habit of making use of such things or listen- 
ing to them ; or else such sounds are thought to carry 
with them invariably some fixed meanings, and canno 
fail of exciting tfieir peculiar ideas wherever they come- 
Whether this be the received way of estimating their 
jpwer, or not, it is very evident such is not the effect: 
for I believe no reflecting and considerate person will 
question, that thousands of such words and phrases are 
daily afloat, which multitudes hearing, have very differ- 
ent ideas excited in their heads by means ol them, 
from what those who deliver them purposely annex to 
those sounds and phrases, or are casually associate? 
therewith in their minds, and many individuals ol such 
multitudes, very different ones from others. 

Furthermore, we shall find there is so much depen- 
dence upon the infallible efficacy of the sounds, that 
even those who deliver them, have, at one Ume, differ- 
ent notions in this connection, from what they have at 
another. Now, these are not a fair challenge to laith. 
Propositions made up with these, are- not a fair chal- 
lenge to faith. For, be your intention what it will, 
how can I believe the proposition you make to me, 
except I receive it ? And how can I receive it, ex- 
cept I am satisfied of the ideas you connect with your 
words ? How can I have faith in what you state, when 
either I am at a loss whether I have the same ideas 
excited in me by your words, which you design them 
to stand for ; or have no determined ideas at all con- 
stantly arising by means of them ; so that sometimes I 
receive them in one sense and sometimes another ? 
I may believe some proposition, though at the same 
time not the one you make, because the different ap- 
propriations I make of the signs, constitute a very dif- 
ferent proposition.— This is an idle way of using 
words that need explanation, which divers people give 
into, and practice sometimes elusively, through fear 
.that a candid' and liberal explanation of their terms 

u 



122 

should expose the absurdities of their preaching. They 
entrench themselves behind the ambiguity of their 
signs. If the plain meaning of their expressions ac- 
cording to common propriety, be accepted -or allowed, 
it would at once expose the inconsistencies and crude- 
ness of some connected parts of their discourses, and if 
their secret peculiar meanings be publicly divulged, 
direct prejudice would be done to their whole scale of 
doctrine, by disclosing the mischievous deceitfulness of 
their views. Such, at least, we may presume is the case 
w T ith S07iie, w T ho diffusely deal in vague expressions. — 
The word regeneration is one which is extremely 
obscure, in the way it is commonly used ; and those 
who make show of defining it, so far from casting light, 
involve its sense in deeper darkness. — The literal in- 
terpretation is, ' being born again? This is impossi- 
ble — So then it is said the meaning is no such thing : 
but, that, the word being used figuratively, the thing 
intended is emblematical of such a conceit as a repeated 
birth , or, in other words, a new birth ; — and is a strange 
inward change.* It is a very strained figure, to make 
the best of it. **f 

What is the meaning, at last ? — A moral change ? Is 
it a change of disposition and character ? This is very 
comprehensible, and plain enough. That a person 
changes his conduct in consequence of contemplation 
and reasoning on some certain subjects, whereby all 
his habits become changed, is very easy to conceive. 
This is a reformed character. The affections, the 
habits of thinking, and the course of life, are all differ- 
ent from what they were. But no : — they say it is 
not this — Regeneration is something different from this 
— a mystical change — an inward change in the very 
soul, that no one can describe but he who has experi- 
enced it in fact. How then can any one else have a 
determinate and true idea of it excited in him by the 
sound of that word ? — It may be pretended that this 
regeneration, or being born anew, is neither physical 



123 

nor moral, — but spiritual. If so. there is ultimately 
no settled meaning to the word. For when the mean- 
ing of a word is shuffled out of the grasp of common 
apprehension, and resolved into an inconceivable sub- 
tlety, I aver it has no meaning at all belonging to it. 
But there is a set of men which prefers sounds to sense ; 
and places more stress upon names than upon the things 
they make pretence to signify. — No less vague is the 
word hell. This has very different fantazies attached 
to it in the minds of many that speak and that hear it. 
I' desire to know what is the true meaning of a w r ord 
which almost every person receives in a different sense 
from others ? If hell is a place, where is it ? One 
man associates with the idea of this sound the idea of a 
place far below his feet, in the bowels of the earth. — r 
Another, perhaps, attaches to it the idea of a point in 
open space between the surfaces of distant globes— 
below the earth, and betwixt it and some other parts of 
the universe. Another fancies hell is situated in one 
of the comets. While another, probably, understands 
by the word, merely the anguish of a guilty, conscience, 
and deems that the person who suffers the pangs of 
remorse and compunctious regret for any thing in his 
own .course he looks back upon and disapproves, actu- 
ally endures the pains of hell. — Now, the meaning of 
the word is very different when understood in this sense 
wherein the idea of place has nothing to do, but only 
an affection or emotion of the human soul, from what 
it is in all others it is commonly received in. Therefore 
we may conclude, this word has no invariable senti- 
mental meaning, among the common people where it 
is daily used. Surely those who connect so very diffe- 
rent conceptions with the same sign, cannot hold intel- 
ligible discourse together on such a point. — But sounds 
are accepted without meanings ; and pass very currently 
instead of sense. Like may be remarked of heaven. — 
People have almost as various conceptions of such a 
place, which come into their fancies upon hearing of that 



124 

Harness they have countenances. — Glory to God y is an 
expression, very obscure in purport. What do people 
mean when they say glory to God? — Is it the expres- 
sion of a wish that glory may be given to God ? If he 
already has glory in perfection, it is an idle wish : and 
if glory cannot be given him more than he has, it must 
be a puerile expression indeed. If, as is said by these 
same people, he is replete with glory ineffable and not 
to be surpassed nor increased, what sense is there in 
desiring or commanding that glory may be given to 
him ? But if mortal men cannot add to his glory, but, 
is they also say, their taking his name into their pol- 
luted lips dishonors it, what propriety is there in com- 
manding or requesting men to give him glory ? — Much 
h said about the declarative glory of God, by these 
same people, as if God's glory were really to be ad- 
advanced by the efforts of men : notwithstanding they 
assert that nothing which human power can effect, can 
ever add a jot to his honor or glory ; but father the 
very reverse if possible ; yet speaking strictly all con* 
less the subject is extremely beyond human influence. 
It is said to be conducive to the declarative glory of 
God, to publish certain sorts of books and pamphlets, 
and utter certain discourses and hymns. Perhaps is 
meant merely the declaration of God's glory among 
men, and exhibiting and elucidating it to the notice of 
intelligent creatures — At the same time they say it is 
both incomprehensible and unutterable. So then, what 
will the meaning be resolved to, at last ? 

The great mischief arises from a default of full and 
clear definitions of important words in discourses 
thought to be of weighty consequence. — What pity it 
is that long and solemn discourses should be daily held 
forth, about things supposed to be of serious concern to 
mankind, without having in them a single logical defi- 
nition of any of the principal words ! The word faitk 
is generally left without definition by those who dis- 
course most on it. And we shall often hear elaborate 



125 

dissertations, of which the prime scope is to prove the 
indispensable urgency, and momentous effects of faith, 
in which yet it is never fairly stated wherein it consists. 
This, and several other words, ought to be critically 
defined, and in a manner that hearers cannot easily mis- 
conceive, by those who deliver discourses out of pulpits, 
on such topics.— Great noise is made about the spread 
of infidelity. This word too is used very loosely, 
and there is a hundred chances to one that hearers do 
not get the same idea of it, that is usually in the minds 
of those that speak. It is fashionably connected with 
immorality. The same things are said to promote the 
spread of infidelity and immorality. Depravation of 
morals, is associated with the idea of infidelity. It is 
said, the writings of free-thinkers, tend directly to 
deprave the hearts of men ; and that to read the books 
of a certain class of philosophers whose investigations 
are free, and unfettered by any sectarian prejudice, 
makes mankind licentious and unprincipled. This, 
stated as a matter of fact, requires, for proof, the effect 
to be adduced. But where shall we find out this effect ? 
Is any greater proportion of those persons who read 
books of that sort, licentious or any how extravagant 
in their conduct, than of those who, being trained to 
hold them in abhorrence, are austerely drilled to the 
rules of religious establishments, ajid read no other 
books but such as are prescribed by some ecclesiastical 
cabinet, if they read any at all ? I question whether 
the fact can be produced, that any individual who has 
read the books of serious free-thinkers, is, after the 
reading of them, actually more roguish, more unstable, 
more intemperate, more hard-hearted, more deceitful, 
or more quarrelsome, in consequence of reading those 
books, than he was before — But if it were true that this 
reading has this tendency to make the moral characters 
of men more depraved and degenerate, certainly the 
effect would be seen in the conduct and conversation 
9f such persons as had practised this reading. Those 
11* 



126 

who had been reading such writings, would be observed 
to be more loose, and some way or other iniquitous, in 
their course, than they were before they had seen any 
such books. Yet, indeed, we seldom find any other 
than serious and inoffensive persons acquainted with 
such books. But none will read philosophical books, 
except thinking persons.— I contend, then, this is not 
the effect. It is a false alarm. The books of free-think- 
ers do not conduce to demoralize the world. 



CHAPTER XV. 

Of the use of Faith. 

V ERY small acquaintance with the condition of 
man, and the common ways of the world, will shew, 
beyond doubt, that faith has great use in human life. 
Our knowledge is very bounded, and serves but a part 
of our purposes. — The husbandman does not know he 
shall have a crop, nor that a single kernal will sprout, 
when he sows his grain. He does not even know the 
same order of seasons will continue. He depends on 
faith. Faith induces him to act, and employ the ne - 
cessary means to the end desired. — Nor has the astrono- 
mer hisself knowledge that an eclipse will take place 
at a certain time future, although he computes it on 
established demonstrative principles. For the truth of 
these principles rests upon the supposition that the great 
bodies of the mundane system shall hold their motions 
undisturbed, and their same relations to each other : 
which being future, and their dependences extending 
far out of the boundaries of our comprehension, he does 
not know, but only has faith of a high degree ; — that 
is, he has assurance of it, and this is faith : and this is 
the manner in which he must entertain the proposition 



127 

of the eclipse, till the moment when it happens ; ancl 
then he has knowledge that such an appearance takes 
place at such a moment of time. 

Most of our undertakings proceed from faith ; and 
are grounded and modified upon this principle, that 
we have faith that such and such things are or ivill 
be, where indeed we have no knowledge. The phy*- 
sician has not knowledge that twenty grains of tartar 
will produce a retrogade motion in the stomach of 
the patient to which he exhibits it. He acts by vir- 
tue of faith. A merchant in Philadelphia, who has 
never been abroad, does not know that such a place 
as London exists, when he puts on board a cargo of 
30,000 dollars value and consigns it to that place. — 
The degree of faith he has, prevails with him to re- 
solve on that adventure. By faith also judges and 
juries act, in settling matters referred to them. Demon- 
stration seldom enters into judicial discussions. It 
is their faith that dictates their decrees. Probable 
evidence is that which is commonly used in these 
inquests, and not demonstrative. Their deliberations 
are supposed to proceed on the evidence of probabili- 
ty only, and not of demonstration nor the memory of 
sensitive knowledge. Testimony of others is the 
chief source of information. Unless the jurors or 
judges are eye-witnesses or ear-witnesses of the facts 
in question, they do not give verdicts from know- 
ledge, but from faith, correspondent to the degree of 
probability or evidence exhibited. If fifty men testi- 
fy under oath that they saw a certain man murder an- 
other, the jury not being theirselves witnesses of the 
fact, do not render a verdict of guilt against that man 
from knowledge, but from faith only — faith of a high 
degree — perhaps assurance — for the probability may 
be so great upon one side, as scarcely to admit any 
at all upon the other. They do not knoiv that that 
man has killed the other ; they believe he has, or else 
they have assurance that he has. 



128 

So, if I hold a note of hand from another, promising 
one hundred dollars; and, when charged with it be- 
fore a judge, he acknowledges his signature — the 
judge does not know lhat he honestly owes me that 
sum of money— has not knowledge of that debt ; but 
only faith : it appears highly probable that he owes 
me a huridred dollars ; and this gives him assurance. 
or induces him to believe ', beyond question, that the 
sum is thus due : and therefore he gives his opinion 
that the man is indebted to me in the sum of one hun- 
dred dollars, and pronounces his decree that he shall 
pay me that sum. And thus, according to the de- 
grees of probability, verdicts are rendered for great- 
er or less damages, in cases where one man is re- 
presented to have injured another. Whereby we see 
faith has daily use in courts of jurisprudence, and all 
judicial investigations ; and therefore is indispensable 
in the affairs of civil society. Thus, upon critical ex- 
amination, we shall see there are but few cases where 
men have knowledge, to act upon and be guided by, in 
their pursuits. Faith serves the purpose of directing 
us upon our necessary recourses in life. The use of 
faith consists in its causality in respect -to the determi- 
nation of the will. Faith causes some determinations 
of will, which, if that faith did not exist, would not 
take place. — The true use of faith, is to set men upon 
some course of action or some expedient calculated to 
preserve their existence or to promote their happiness 
or perfection. In but few cases of our purposes of 
life, we have the clear sunshine of certain knowledge 
for our guide to direct us upon our pursuits ; but most- 
ly take our latitude and departure from that crepuscti- 
lous state of mind called faith. 

Faith has the adaptation to produce a determination of 
our choice and will. In consequence of belief or as- 
surance or some degree of faith or other, of the tend- 
ency of certain expedients I propose to go about, or 
of the qualities of things I am to apply, I arn deter- 
mined on courses of action which if I find result ad- 



129 



vantageously, prove faith to have an important utilitv 
*aith is a state of mind that is immediately inductive 
to determination and conduct of some sort or other. 
We see it has effect, in our lives. This is beyond 
question. J 

The true and right use of faith, according to the 
propriety of moral estimation, lies in its causing de- 
terminations which are morally good, or, at least, be- 
ing justifiable, are any such as tend to secure the pre- 
servation orimprovementofmankind. And this causali- 
ty is rational, comprehensible, and not contrary to the 
ordinary course and constitutions of things. Conse- 
quently, when faith, in any instance, does not direct- 
ly tend to such a production, it has not its true use. 
n is not, in that instance, useful. 

f,;i kn0 7-i? is n L 0t t n uncommon thing to ascribe to 
faith a utility which it has not; and fancifully derive 
things that do not rationally and legitimately flow 
Irom it. A fashion in high vogue, is to makefile de- 
ductions from faith, and refer to this consequences 
which must necessarily emanate from some ot her prin, 
ciple So we shall find a multitude of sectaries teach- 
ing that evangelical faith is indispensably necessary to 
*ue holiness They say there can be no genuine^ 
mgmty m the world, without a particular sort of faith 
— say,laith in such a particular doctrine, necessarily 
begets love to mankind, devotion, patience ; and afi 
the amiable sisterhood of the social virtues. But, can 
this be maintained by arguments or facts ? Virtue 
seems rather to flow from knowledge than faith : at 
least it comes from no peculiar tenet : for a man to 

tL /? I t0 X nef l Cence ' what more is requisite 
than to be assured that beings of the same make as him- 

i *F u Same Wants and Passions; and that to 
make them happy, is to make himself safe and easy ? 
Certainly ,t is not altogether from faith, this effect 
Proceeds ; but from knowledge and faith both.— 
Whatever good affects are derived from faith, in the 



130 

matter of inducing men to practise what is praise-wor- 
thy ; the error in this case lies in particularizing the 
premises by what is altogether foreign, and has no na- 
tural connection in the relation of causality, to the 
thin*- imputed. For it is difficult to conceive that a 
man°s believing Mahomet made a journey to the em- 
pyrean, and there listening to the counsels of the 
Almighty Mind, registered them in a book which he 
called the- Alcoran, and that this is the true revelation, 
makes him an honest man ;— or, that his believing 
Jesus Christ came to life after he was killed, and, 
without a balloon, rose up through the air, can make 

him so. *'" A . 

If I am either punctual or generous, meek or studi- 
ous, it is because I am induced to be so by some other 
considerations very different from the belief of a par- 
ticular narration of incidents. 



131 



CHAPTER XVI. 

Of perversion or abuse of Faith, 



,n A a c ? lth has &** use in the 1; ves of men, 
and is often of important service in directing the' 
plans of conduct to the most valuable attainments vet 
iTis hableto be abused, and turned to w^S£j£ 
abons. On many occasions, faith is perverted fwhfre- 
by it gives rise to actions not contribute to happiness 

andperfect^n^notnecessaryandnttopromoteThem 
but the reverse. This is when men make it an S 
ment to justify actions and prompt them to deternSfa- 
tions, the propriety of which, is not to be Si 
;j v f™ "-When they make it a reason of con- 
duct winch ,t cannot justify, and in fact is not the cause 
of it but is pretended to be such, though thevarTm 
eited to it by other considerations.I-Faith is manifiX 
perverted when it is made a pretext, an excuTe o Z 
incenhve, to injure one's fellow-crealures. For if the 
nght use of faith is to set man upon such actions as ma? 
conduce to his happiness and perfection, itis plainS 
w en it becomes a cause that induces him to injure his 
fellow-bong, it is turned from its true use,-and turned 
to a wrong appropriation,-because if a man S 
another, he injures himself: since in a state of sodetT 

ntre ^f t,^ TT member of ^ — unitv tte 
resfof .1 w\ i holecommu »'ty ;-andif so, the inte- 
rest oi the whole commumtv is the interest of everv 
inember of it Wherefore he cannot escape Se'dB 

to himself. Bes.des, to do evil is evidently contrary 

tXZlTf' 3nd f nn0t be What conh-ibutesS 
pelleting the human character : but the reverse 

When a man takes encouragement from his. faith or 



132 



belief of any particular hypothesis, to ffl^Wj 
more of his fellow-creatures, , he perverts his fcrfb • 
he abuses it, and turns it to a wrong use. .If he _takes 
encouragement from, or excuses himself by, to .belie , 
to turn a tenant from his house, a teacher out of his 
ShooT or a mechanic from his shop, who professes a 
different tenet, he certainly makes a bad ™<*^ & 
Whenever faith operates to bear a man aside from the 
plthofrectitudcft must be diverted .from its. true us. 
When a man, because he believes Jesus Christ is the 
saviour of men and will finally prevail to bring all the 
people that shall be in the world, into a subjection to 
EsS, and to confess him as the only true prophet, 
ki Is an atheist,a Mahometan, a deist or any one of his 
neighbors he meets, who does not believe what Aebe- 
SevV. he abuses his faith. There are many ways of 
inTuring one's fellow-men : and when it is done upon 
S Principe of another's suppposed or professed 1 e- 
hef it is called persecution. It may be death, it may 
be plunder, robbery, ejectment, scandal, purging, or 
cudgelUng Injuries done to others on account of their 
2 are Called persecution. This sort of injuring folks 
is cahed persecution. Thus, Mahometans persecute 

persecute Christians ; and one sect of Christians peis< 

CU SstSnapersonmakeshiso T 
of his justification in doing hurt to others. If I nrmly 
believe any theory, and if, because another, in my op - 
Son? uoes^ot beUeve the same, I do injury to him ; it 
1 manifest that, if I did not hold such tenet, but be- 
lieved exactly what he believes as nearly as ^coukl be 
Setorily determined, I should not injure him ; and 
that in the present case, if I vindicate my conduct in 
^oym ; H& man, I set up my J^eation^-y 
faith : since the very reason of my annopng^sthe 
difference of his faith from mme. There is an indirect 
way of abusing faitb-when without making a cpnsci 



133 

enee of maintaining any particular tenet in himself, and 
perhaps having no settled opinion on the same point, a 
man having found out what another's faith is, or obtain- 
ed satisfactory evidence of such a fact, makes a very 
bad use of the discovery by making that person's faith 
a source of mischief to him ; — which is done, when 
it is employed as an engine of traduction, — diminishing 
his reputation among such as, while they have in their 
power to do him good and harm, rate people according 
to their persuasions. Thus, one may persecute another 
by way of defamation and reproach. In this way a 
marriage may be prevented ; and a man may be de- 
prived of an office, or balked in any of his pursuits of 
subsistence or usefulness which have any degree of 
dependence on the favor of others. I may be on the 
eve of marrying a rich, beautiful, and virtuous lady, 
who may not be aware of my faith, and not be particu- 
lar about what I secretly surmise or believe concerning 
things she has no concern with, although those on whom 
she in some measure depends, who have great influence 
over her, are very particularly rigid in their estimate 
of people's characters in such a respect, and tolerate no 
faith but their own. Another person, out of envy or 
spleen, — or upon some pique that arises from conside- 
rations wholly independent of any scruples hisself har- 
bors about such faith, may go and report that by some- 
thing I have been heard to say, it is past question evi- 
dent, that in the secret belief of my heart, I am a qua- 
ker, a universalist, an atheist, a methodist, a deist, a 
Jew, a pagan philosopher, or am of some persuasion or 
other, that is not the same w^hich is popular among her 
connections : the effect may be to utterly defeat the 
intended compact : whereby irreparable detriment is 
done my character and estate ; — I being counterbuffed 
from civil society, and thereafter driven from pillar to 
post, throughout my native country, like a pack-horse, 
all the remaining days of my life, without house or 
friend, — hissed from place to place like an inferior be- 
12 






134 



ing : which is making a very bad use of my faith — ■ 
that is, of the idea of my faith, (whether the supposition 
be true or not,) by turning it against my interest, and 
making it a cause of misfortune and deprivation, with- 
out any ill intent in me at all. 

By the like malversation I may be rebuffed from 
holding an office of profit and honor ; or from any 
advantageous employment. 

This is a subtle, insidious sort of persecution ; which, 
however, is not uncommon, even among civilized peo- 
ple. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

On profession of Faith, 

PROFESSION of faith is a declaration that one 
believes a proposition, a contexture of propositions, a set 
of tenets, — a scale of dogmas called a system of doc- 
trine, or a theory. Those who make declarations of 
this kind, are said to profess faith. Such are some- 
times called professors. He who professes to believe 
the doctrine which is held forth by the followers of 
Mahomet, is called a professor of Islamism, — or, other- 
wise, Mahumadism. He who professes to entertain 
with faith as high as belief, the propositions believed 
by those who call themselves Christians, is called a 
professor of Christianity : and he who declares his be- 
lief of the doctrine delivered by Zenoand his disciples, 
is called a professor of stoicism. While he who makes 
declaration that he does not believe the proposition 
which affirms the existence of a God, is said to be a 
professor of atheism. 

Now, profession may be true, and it may be false. 
If may be sincere or insincere. A man may speak as 



135 

he thinks • or he may speak contrary to what he thinks. 
The truth of the proposition of one's faith, is not al- 
ways easy to be ascertained by hearers. — For one man 
can have no intuition of another's ideas, and no know- 
ledge that they agree or disagree as the words are joined 
or disjoined in such a proposition. 

A man's faith is a secret known only to himself. 
Others can have nothing more than assurance of it 
This is the highest stage we can reach, towards the 
certainty of another's faith ; whether he have faith, or 
whatever it is. — Profession is accounted the sign of 
faith ; as words are the signs of ideas : but it is less sure, 
because more arbitrarily used. With regard to pro- 
fessions of faith, we may observe two rules for deter- 
mining whether they are sincere or not. In the first 
place, if the matter is mysterious, remote from our in ves- 
gation, and impossible to be comprehended, we may 
conclude the profession is insincere, and no such faith 
actually has place, though it is declared to be : foras- 
much as one has reason to suppose others have the same 
sort of capacities as himself; therefore that what he 
cannot conceive nor form any clear idea of, they can- 
not. — In the next place, if the propositions professed 
to be believed, are absurd and contradictory, it is evi- 
dent the profession is not sincere. — In both these cases 
we may at once suspect the veracity of him who pro- 
fesses faith ; because we can take for granted it is im- 
possible to have faith in what cannot be comprehended, 
nor in what openly contradicts itself, which is when 
one and the same thing is both affirmed and denied of 
another, or when one part of the predicate is altogether 
incongruous and inconsistent with the other, — as when 
an action is directed upon an object which is not capa- 
ble of receiving it, or things compared or applied toge- 
ther which do not admit such a habitude. 

If one man has no other way to get any light concern- 
ing another's faith but his declaration of it, he must plain- 
ly be liable to great deception regarding this particular. 



136 

He first lies at the other's mercy to get any declaration 
at all, for the man is not obliged to answer him if he 
asks him the question ; and after that he has heard his 
statement, he must forever remain without certainty, 
that he does not lie, but makes a true statement. — Yet, 
if he cannot attain certainty, he can, in many cases, come 
up to assurance. The word confession is sometimes 
substituted for profession : — and people are said to 
confess their faith, when they tell what articles they 
believe. This is not strictly proper \ for the words are 
not synonimous. Confession implies an acknowledge- 
ment of something done. Thus people make confes- 
sions to priests, who, for money, give them pardons. 
But a fashion prevails, to some extent, of applying this 
word to the same purpose as profession : and several 
sects have published books which they call "Confes- 
sions of Faith ;" wherein they dogmatically lay down 
the positions which they profess to believe, and which 
they would have others profess to believe. The 
presbyterians have lately published their " Confession 
of Faith." Herein they have set down the articles of 
their creed, the rules of their discipline and ceremonies, 
rheir catechisms, and several other things ; — meaning, 
that they profess to believe it is proper that such and 
such things should be done, that such and such things 
should be upheld, that such professions should be made, 
and that such questions should have such answers. — 
Some cry up profession as an important duty, reckoning 
it essential to holiness and to true devotion. Now, if 
profession be good for any thing, I am sure faith itself 
is better. But if there be no faith, what can the pro- 
fession avail ? Or is that particular set of articulate 
sounds or other signs which purport to represent a de- 
claration of faith, possessed of a peculiar efficacy (with- 
out regard to truth) in the service of God or man, above 
all other signals ? You say, no, it depends upon faith. 
Now, then if the efficacy depends upon faith, it is no 
longer in the profession : for the tokens that constitute 



137 

the profession, are the very same things whether they 
are actually connected with their proper archetypes or 
not. It is faith itself that produces good or bad effects 
upon others. I believe what God Almighty has put 
into my mind to believe, or made appear probable to 
me. This is faith. It is within me. It is of good 
consequence, or bad ; or else it is indifferent in respect 
to my own and other's enjoyment, and does neither 
good nor hurt. The only way it has effect to do either 
good or hurt to others, is, by influencing my course of 
determination, and inducing me to perform good or bad, 
beneficent or injurious, actions. But I dont see that 
my barely telling others what faith is in me, can do 
either good or harm any other way than as others 
make a wrong use of their information. At least it is 
no virtue in me ; it belongs to the account of others. 



CHAPTER XVIIL 

Of Credulity. 



F 



EW things are of more common note than a pe- 
culiar readiness or liableness we observe in many peo- 
ple to believe or acquiesce in a proposition without 
examining the weight of its probability, and the grounds 
upon which it is bottomed. — This arises from an imbe- 
cility of mind, which occasions it to shrink from all 
efforts of critical investigation ; makes it the subject of 
that infatuating association of the idea of verity with 
any and every communication from another person ; 
and I think includes a defect of discernment and of 
memory ; whereby many things are let slip without 
notice, and not registered for future direction* This 
imbecility is commonly called credulity. This weak- 

12* 



138 



ness, so observable in multitudes of the people of the 
world, is what commonly goes by the name credulity. 
A credulous person believes every thing he hears seri- 
ously reported. A credulous person yields his acqui- 
escence to a report, without consideration, by reason 
that a strong association has taken place in the infancy 
of his intellectual powers identifying verity with intent 
allocution ; and a lack of reflection owing to indolence or 
weakness : from this association, and defect of mental 
energy, arises the foible which we call credulity. Here- 
from we find some persons strongly affected by stories of 
apparitions, witches, and the like ; some carried away by 
the prescriptions of empirics, and induced to encounter 
much labor to get together the articles which they have 
been persuaded possess certain medicinal virtues ; — 
others surprisingly moved by the oratory and strange 
doctrines of ranters. — One of these, on hearing assert- 
ed that an ointment made with vinegar and the marrow 
of horses' bones, is an infallible specific for the rheu- 
matism, and being subject to that complaint, would 
travel 20 miles in quest of a fresh carcass, if he 
heard of any horse that had died or was killed, in that 
distance : the other, if he heard his preacher say, 
in an exhortation, that he saw the Almighty, or saw 
Christ, straight before him, and all that was wanted, 
was, for his hearers to call on him aloud, and he would 
come down instantly and be present with them, would 
readily cry out, with great eagerness, (lifting both 
hands,) O Lord come down here ! 

Children are generally credulous ; and so are men 
who are but little experienced in the exercises of re- 
flection. Here is weaknes through want of practical 
exertion ; and through a lack of experience of the fal- 
lacy of appearances and the deceitfulness of signs ; so 
that the means do not yet exist, of dissolving that per- 
nicious association. When time, well improved by 
observation and reflection, has given some ascenden- 
cy to the discursiye faculties, the same persons are 



139 

720/ credulous, but circumspect in their estimate of 
what is proposed for their assent. The numerous fry 
of opiniated sectaries, are mostly made up of cred- 
ulous. A credulous person may be led by an industri- 
ous impostor, whose repeated inculcations eventually 
supersede those of others ; and he becomes the prey 
of designing partizans. For if he receives instructions 
from different persons, that which is oftenest repeated 
will naturally have the greatest influence. Hence he 
finally clings to the party who is most persevering. 
He is at sale to the highest bidder — or to him that 
will bestow the most pains to modify his opinions, 
and make him a proselyte. Wherefore he is likely, 
in the end, to become a bigot. 



CHAPTER XIX, 



Of Enthusiasm. 



JCiNTHUSIASM has generally been understood 
to be a disorder of mind which deranges the scale of 
correspondence between faith and evidence ; where- 
by faith becomes excessive, rising to a higher degree 
than is warranted by the degree of probability in the 
case. This has been thought to arise from an ardent 
imagination and too great susceptibility of impressions 
by way of the trains of association. I consider it a 
variety of somnia, which makes people confound 
faith, imagination, and knowledge. Somnia, among 
physicians, is a species of the diseases of volition, 
wherein is an excess of voluntary energy, especially 
in the modes of thinking, directed to one particular 
sort of objects, and always includes reverie. 

In the present case, the impressions are so strong 



140 



which come by way of association of the ideas of pa- 
sture and pain in different connexions in the imagina- 
tive or sensitive trains, that they operate as assurance. 
The patient confounds his imagination with faith ; and 
both with knowledge ; because he recognizes no dif- 
ference, not only on account of the force of the first 
impressions, but also by reason of a defect of his dis- 
cernment in respect to this kind of objects. 

This arises from a defect of the distinguishing fa- 
culty, whereby the discriminations of knowledge and 
faith are eluded ; and from ardour of imagination, 
which is, in other words, but too great excitability to 
such sort of ideas, to wit, unreal ideas or composi- 
tions made up of parts of those impressed by real be- 
ings — but of themselves having no archetypes in ex- 
istence. Here is a morbid precipitancy of spirits, so 
far as the energy is taken up in this way. 

Upon these two radical faults, enthusiasm depends ; 
— a defect, and &n excess. A defect of discernment, 
and an excess of excitability. These constitute the 
proximate cause of the disorder here considered. Both 
these may originate from weakness of the brain — but 
its attendants, and immediate forerunners, are lack of 
attention, want of study, want of reasoning — or else a 
misuse of reason. 

The voluntary energy runs upon a certain class of 
strange, wonderful things, and anomalous fantazies; and 
precludes the distinction of knowledge, faith, and imagi- 
nation. What the enthusiast believes, he fancies he 
knows: and what he strongly imagines, being of the 
same train or kind, and therefore deducible from what 
he believes, he fancies he knows also. He feels the 
same impresssion in either case. He has no hesitation 
in declaring he knows things which in fact he only 
surmises ; and others of which he has barely some 
wild unreal fantazies that afFectingly come into the 
course of his imaginations. The excess of voluntary 
energy which constitutes the diagnostic of somnia in this 



141 

case, consists in a concentration of the power of vo- 
luntary thinking directed upon a train of strange ro- 
mantic ideas very discordant with the ordinary'trains 
of our perceptions— such as the stories of miracles, 
prophecyings, witchcrafts, apparitions, ghosts, second 
sight, seeing things future and remote, &c. 

We need not go far to find enthusiasts. We need 
not go into foreign countries, nor remote and rare sects. 
We can find them at home. We can find them among 
the Methodists, the Quakers, the Roman Catholics, 
the Shakers, the Baptists, and several other sects in 
this country. We shall find more or less enthusiasts 
in almost all sects. 

Who among us has not heard a Tiiodern exhorter, 
a Methodist or a Newlight preacher, in his discourse 
make declaration that he was in the secret of the Al- 
mighty's will concerning him ; that he had expe- 
rienced in himself what is incommunicahle, inconceiva- 
ble to all such as have not experience of the like ; and 
point out the moment when, and the spot w T here, 
he instantaneously received an unspeakable inward 
impulsion of superior agency, and became a new crea- 
ture : — that he had a strange feeling : that then it was 
he had actual knowledge of the mysterious operation 
of the Spirit of God, producing a wonderful change 
and making him certain that he was a special object 
of the Divine Grace ? 

Credulity is favourable to enthusiasm. A credu- 
lous person may be an enthusiast; and an enthusiast 
may be credulous. But enthusiasm fixes the credu- 
lous person upon a particular point, and makes him 
obstinate in the defence of some favourite theory. 
Both lead the way to bigotry. But a man seldom be*' 
comes a bigot, unless he is first an enthusiast* 



142 



CHAPTER XX. 



On the madness of demanding confessions of I^ith, and disclo- 
sures of what another secretly believes. 

©INGE one's faith, being an inscrutable secret 
beyond the limits of another's knowledge, gives ad- 
vantage to great illusion, and at the same time is ve- 
ry seldom of use to another, whatever benefits arise 
from it to others being remote consequences and ad- 
ventitious ; is it not madness to urge, under threats, 
a disclosure of faith ? Can that man be deemed sane, 
who demanding a decisive declaration of faith, holds 
an instrument of torture over your head, ready to in- 
flict the most painful coercion if you shall profess any 
thing different from a particular tenet or set of tenets 
which he prescribes ? 

Nothing is easier than to deceive another about 
one's faith. One cannot deceive or illude another 
concerning any other fact so easily as his faith ; there 
being nothing else he can so completely conceal. For 
if a man makes different professions to different per- 
sons, their probability may balance ; and one is as 
much in the dark as another. To press another to 
disclose his faith, and ask with importunity whether 
he believes this or that, is idle. To threaten another 
with pain or death for not professing to believe a^ given 
proposition, or not professing to have faith of a parti- 
cular description, is a token of insanity. Yet such 
questions as the following, are often austerely put by 
those who have or pretend to authority over others : — 
Do you believe that Jesus Christ died for your sal- 
vat ion ? If you do not. you have no patronage here; 
we can have none in our society, to conduct our bu- 
siness, but believers. Or rather, as some nations, if 



143 

you do not, you viust be grid-ironed. So it has 
been, in times past, in Spain and Italy. Dost thou be- 
lieve the pope is infallible ? (says a Portuguese monk to 
an Hibernian traveller) — If thou dost not, thou 
wouldest do well to quit this kingdom immediately. 
And what is more common than, do you believe Peter 
fell from grace when he denied his master ? Do 
you believe, when a man has resisted and discard- 
ed the Spirit of God, he is ever after reclaim able ? 

" Ask me no questions, and I will tell you no lies ;" 
and, " If you don't know what I think, you cannot 
hurt me for it," are old but pithy sayings and contain 
a very shrewd premonition to such sort of meddlers. 

Of what use to you, can be the idea of my faith ? 
Whether I believe this or that, or do not believe ei- 
ther, what use will you make of the knowledge or as- 
surance, supposing that you can get it beyond ques- 
tion ? It is not to determine whether I am honest or 
not ; for you suppose me to be honest, when you ask 
me for my faith. You already have confidence in me 
that I am honest and sincere, else you would not ask 
me for my faith if you sincerely expect any satisfac- 
tion to your curiosity. Do you feel any more assu- 
rance of what my faith is, when I have answered your 
question than before ? If so, you presuppose me to be 
honest and to answer you sincerely, and could receive 
no greater assurance of it by the direct answer itself 
that I give you, to such a question. If you have as- 
surance that I am honest and upright insomuch that I 
shall answer you sincerely when you ask me a ques- 
tion what is my faith, you have it by other means 
than my answering that question ; for upon that assu- 
rance must rest your assurance of my faith. If I am 
proved to be an honest man, it is proved otherways 
than by my answering a question ; for that could not 
prove it. If I be proved to be an honest man, where- 
fore I am expected to answer a question sincerely 
and according to the reality of things, it is proved other- 



144 

way than by my answering that question ; for that 
could not be a proof in such a point. Moreover, such 
things are always better proved by actions than by 
words. So that it is not to determine the question 
of my veracity, my integrity, or any part of my moral 
character, that you can make use of your information 
concerning my faith. You have a persuasion I am an 
Jaonest and true man ; for, for this very reason you 
ask me seriously what I believe, expecting a correct 
answer. But though by you I am admitted an honest 
man, yet you are not determined whether I shall be 
your tutor, your attorney, your steward, your tailor, 
your physician, your secretary, or your farmer, be- 
cause it is not determined what particular faith I have, 
and this you think you can find out by asking me, be- 
cause you take me to be an honest man who will 
speak exactly as I think. Yet after I have answered 
your question, you determine that I shall not be any 
of these, and shall have no employment nor encourage- 
ment from you — because what ? — you find I do not 
acknowledge the same faith that you have, or such 
particular belief as you wish every one should give 
into : and you say, such as belong to the household of 
faith, should be promoted ; but those who do not, are 
not to be countenanced by you. 

Thus, in the first place, you have assurance that I 
am an honest man, and in consequence of this assu- 
rance, you have, perhaps, the assurance that I am an 
atheist, by means of my answer to your question of 
my belief, in case I answer in the negative when you 
ask the question whether I believe the existence of 
such a being as you call God. For if you did not 
first believe me a sincere man, you would not have the 
persuasion that I am an atheist ; because you could 
not rely upon my word. — This proves four things : — 

1 . That one may be an honest man and an atheist at 
the same time. 



145 

2. That it is not honesty that you value a man bv, 
but his professed faith. J 

3. That although you decidedly approve and highly 
value honesty for your purposes of intercourse, as you 
cannot find out other people's thoughts nor rely upon 
their words without it, yet you reprobate an honest 
man for his faith, and consider him unworthy to be 
m any station in civil society affording an honorable 
support, by reason that he has not in him the same 
faith that you have, or has not some particular sort of 
iaith which you would have prevail. 

4. That while my faith has not that influence on my 
character to make me a dishonest man, you make it 
an obstacle to my livelihood, to circumscribe my pri- 
vileges ; and, though my faith does not make me injure 
any man, yet you having found out my faith by means 
of my honesty, it makes you injure me, in that you 
turn it to my disadvantage.— This may be considered 
as one way of perverting other people's faith, by turning 
it against their interest and well-being in society. 

That you have no good motive in all this, appears 
plain : but that you have some sinister end in view is 
evident, — to wit — to promote some design to which 
moral honesty is not essential, but some particular per- 
suasion of mind which will induce one to do what ho* 
nesty and goodness would not exact nor allow.— Itmay 
be to employ a set of men in a sort of ceremonial de- 
votion, and maintain them in the preaching of a sort of 
doctrine ; and, withal, to keep in repute certain anti- 
quated symbolical usages to distinguish a party and 
dignify it with a superior estimate above others. 



13 



146 



CHAPTER XXI. 



Whether it be right on any occasion to deceive Usurpers, and 
profess contravily to what we really believe. 

JM.OST people are fully satisfied of a propriety of 
deceiving the lunatic, the delirious,, the insane, and the 
intoxicated ; and are persuaded they do what is their 
duty when they take deadly weapons unaware out of 
their hands and conceal them, craftily illuding these 
disordered persons, to the intent of keeping them out 
of the perpetration of mischievous violence ; whereby 
they avert evils which every rational mind might de- 
precate. This is a very prevailing sentiment, and 
appears to be entirely conscionable, forasmuch as those 
-who having lost their only guide and directory, are 
incapable of governing themselves, have need to be 
superintended by such as are capable of governing 
them : and otherwise, peaceable bystanders were in 
imminent hazard ; for 1 he like might be expected from 
them as from w r ild beasts. 

We also find it proper, on many occasions, to de- 
ceive children, before they are capable of governing 
themselves ; and it is right for those who do not know 
what is their duty, — to be compelled to walk within 
certain bounds, by such as do know. 

If this be so, there is no more to do but to decide 
whether these tyrannizing fanatics we are here alluding 
to, are, properly, delirious, insane, or otherwise in the 
predicament of those we account it proper to deceive, 
or not, in order to settle the question under hand, whe- 
ther we may conscientiously deceive these respecting 
our faith : that is, whether those who assuming domi- 
nion over others' minds, and being in power, go about 
in earnest to put the lives of peaceable individuals in 






147 

jeopardy upon a challenge of faith or want of faith iu 
regard to any article, may consistently be judged irra 
tional and deranged, or not. For it is plain, if these 
are in the same condition and class, and it is justi- 
fiable to deceive maniacs, it is right, on the like prin- 
ple, to deceive these, with the same sort of intentions. 
And for this, it seems very natural to infer from the 
same appearances by which we are used to discriminate 
derangement of various species, that any man who 
otherwise possessing the natural powers of the human 
mind, having perhaps been sometimes regular and 
consistent in his carriage, whether he be a king, a 
cardinal, a friar, a bishop, or a blacksmith, seriously 
demands, under threats of death in any shape, — fire, 
rack, gridiron, or gibbet, a particular confession or 
declaration of acquiescence in a prescribed creed, is 
out of his right mind — is delirious or insane. If a 
man, holding a sword or bayonet against my breast, 
requires me to make a particular profession of faith, 
and declares if I do not he will run me through, I have 
reason to conclude that man is deranged ; and have a 
right and a duty, to take the same steps with him as 
with one in the deliriums of a fever. 

If any pope or other despot makes an edict decree- 
ing that every man who does not or shall not profess 
the belief of prescribed articles of faith, shall be broken 
on the rack, burnt at the stake, nailed upon a cross, 
hung upon a gibbet, chained in a dungeon, roasted upon 
a gridiron, or beheaded by an axe or guillotine ; that 
prince, pope, emperor, king, cardinal, or bishop, who 
makes such edict, and any of his emissaries who car- 
ries it into execution, I must confess I cannot avoid 
deeming a maniac ; and I belie ve there are few reflect- 
ing men that will not concur with me. And I main- 
tain it is right to deceive such person, in such a case, 
by speaking contrarily from what are the real senti- 
ments of my mind if I happen not to have that particu- 
lar faith in me, which is required, and making him be- 



148 

iieve, if possible, that I have that faith, while in fact 1 
have not,— for the purpose of saving my life ; for my 
life is of consequence to others, and I am under obliga- 
tion to preserve myself: besides, I may divert the 
maniac from committing an atrocity which, were he 
sane, he must forever regret. 

Moreover, these, perchance, are not all maniacs. 
They may be considered in a different light. The 
next point of view, therefore, in which we shall place 
them, is that of hardened villains, w T ho with some am- 
bitious design to promote a favorite establishment, to 
which the upholding or admission of unproved princi- 
ples is indispensable, stop not at putting all persons to 
death who oppose them even in opinion. 

Here, they come in the character of one who sets at 
defiance human feeling, and has totally abandoned the 
cultivation of sympathy. They are such kind of ad- 
versaries as robbers, pirates, and plunderers. To save 
life, men do not scruple to illude them. — When a man 
is attacked by a highway assassin, and his life put at 
instant hazard, he is apt to persuade himself he acts 
justly in parrying the death-designed blow, by another 
which takes away the life of the assailant.— If a man 
prese nts a pistol and threatens to blow my brains out 
in an instant if I do net betray my friend or lead him 
to the spot where his treasures are deposited, I am 
right in using deceit to extricate myself from this 
dilemma — because it is better to deceive a mortal 
enemy,— an enemy to society, (at least it is the less 
evil of the two ,) than to deceive my friend. So, if a 
.man holds a pistol to my breast, saying, do you believe 
bread and wine are the jlesh and blood of Jesus 
Chris I ? I ask you but once — if you do not declare 
I hat you believe it, I will blow you into eternity in a 
moment, — I contend it is right, even if I do not believe 
it, to tell him contrary to the thoughts of my heart, 
that I do, for the purpose of saving my life to be use- 
ful to my friends arid my country, and save him from 



149 



the commission of a crime. For it is no more unnatu- 
ral to apply the tongue in misrepresenting the thoughts 
of the heart, than with the hands voluntarily to do 
violence to the body of a fellow-being and inflict pain. 
For both are unnatural, and neither one nor the other 
is allowable except in some extreme case, where is some 
obvious overbalance of good to result. Truth is to be 
revered. Speech is the common conduit of truth, and 
the medium for reciprocating the advantages of society. 
It is not to be perverted. It is not, with impunity, to 
be prostituted to the base purpose of falsehood. 

Yet in some extreme cases, such as those I have in- 
stanced, we have a duty to make a profession contrary 
to our faith. 



CHAPTER XXIL 



Query — Whether, in regard to matters of Faith, those were 
most deluded who made martyrs, or those who suffered martyr- 
dom. 



X AM about to introduce a question which may 
be thought to be of little consequence at this time of 
day ; which yet I am persuaded will be found of no 
very remote kindred to some of our most interesting 
speculations now. For though persecution is not car- 
ried to the excess, in civilized nations, that it was two 
hundred years ago ; yet it still makes its appearance 
through a disguise, and sometimes annoys the most 
worthy pursuits. Moreover, if this question can be 
fairly settled, the result might serve somewhat in re* 
gulating the estimate of certain characters, the venera- 
tion of which, is made a weighty argument for esta- 
blishments favouring the views of very different ones* 

13* 



\ % don, whether that party which has martyred 
for their faith , or that party which lias suffer- 
ed martyrdom, was most deluded in regard to faith, 
is a very problematical one. To probe the thoughts 
and intellectual secrets of those who lived a hundred 
years ago, or of those who are still living, is no how 
feasible. We have no light but probable evidence. So 
then this question cannot be settled demonstratively ', 
nor, with full assurance even upon the ground of pro- 
bability. In order to make any approximation towards 
this object, we shall do well to take notice there are 
two ways people may be deluded about faith : 

1st, In respect to the nature of faith itself, what it 
is, whether it be action or rest, voluntary or involun- 
tary, obligatory or not obligatory, a duty or no duty, 
virtue or vice, &c. and, 

2dly, As it respects the object of faith, whether 
it agrees to real existence, or, has a preponderance 
of proofs. This involves a reference to the true 
weight of evidence in any particular instance. 

The party which has exercised this usurpation, to mar 
tyr and persecute, should also be considered as divided 
into two ranks — First, The ringleaders or managers, 
who perchance have no delusion about what they make 
so great a crime, and yet cause others to be grossly de- 
luded and preversely circumducted respecting the 
consequences of their inward thoughts and impres- 
sions. Seco?id, Those who are employed to execute 
their orders and sound alarms : such as the under-offi- 
cers of the inquisition ; the ministers and church-offi- 
cers under Queen Mary ; and multitudes who co-ope- 
rate or concur with these : all of which may be ac- 
tually deluded both about the nature of faith and the 
grounds of their own persuasions ; as well as may be 
the victims of persecution : though I fancy they are not 
probably the subjects of so deep infatuation as the lat- 
ter. — We shall find reason to conclude that in many 
cases the Jirst of these are not at all deluded in either 






151 



of these ways ; and that the second, although they 
may be deluded in both, are probably less so in either, 
than the sufferers : for a smaller degree of hallucina- 
tion is required where the energy of passion coincides 
with the idea of temporal interest, to press free-agents 
upon aggressive enterprizes, than.to prevail with those 
who have nothing but loss and pain before them, to re- 
sist all overtures of ease, and to push their way through 
scandal and certain torture to some supposed good 
that is inconceivable and has no connexion with any 
thing they are capable of enjoying in their present 
constitution. 

Passion will carry one farther towards one's appa- 
rent interest without prejudice, than against it with 
prejudice. Consequently a greater degree of infatua- 
tion is requisite, to blind the human soul so much as 
to determine it upon counterworking its present na- 
tural enjoyment, and induce it to rush upon dissolu- 
tion on the hypothesis that the particular view T s and 
conclusions it entertains w r ithin itself, entitle it to eter- 
nal glory and happiness beyond time ; than to prevail in 
bearing it on the current of passion, to what appears to be 
its interest as a selfish being, at the expense of others' 
weal. The rulers of hierarchal courts, act upon a sort of 
system constituted of the ideas of sundry articles in 
which belief is to be professed, and a scale of articles 
of discipline and ceremony. So, their system consists 
partly of doctrine and partly of movement. The pro- 
bability is, that, far from misconceiving the rank and 
nature of faith, their selves being aware of the mispri- 
sion to which the common people are liable, operate 
upon them by artful means. 

It is sufficient that these are deluded concerning the 
nature of faith ; for whatever the tenet itself be, the 
mere verbal denying of it to a knave, fool, or mad- 
man, cannot incur death by the law of nature. Let 
the particular tenet or opinion any of them entertains 
within him, be what it may— if they believe any thing 






152 

that took place in time past, or is to take place in time 
future, or any thing existing or supposed to exist in 
remote regions, that faith, existing within them, is a 
very different thing from profession ; and does not ap- 
pear to be an argument sufficient, with a rational mind, 
to justify the sacrificing of their lives to an exact re- 
presentation of it to a parcel of madmen or villains ra- 
ther than deceive them about the reality of such a pri- 
vate matter of fact, any more than w T ould.any other 
thoughts or plans that they might have in their heads. 
For the fact is, those persecutors were knaves and 
mad-men. They had no business with the secret faith 
entertained by these people — -all they exacted was the 
ceremony of profession. These must have been some- 
what infatuated about this matter. They must have 
had a strange notion of faith, making it consist partly 
in profession or depend essentially upon it. They had 
integrity on their side, whatever was their delusion. 
Those of the other party — those who made martyrs, 
were deluded about their true interest, as social and 
rational creatures, and egregiously depraved in their 
moral affections. But in regard to faith, there is rea- 
son to think the great heads of the department, the 
managers of the drama, the popes, the kings, the 
queens, the cardinals, the politicians, were not much at 
a loss ; for they understood human nature well enough 
to lead mankind like cattle, and drill them to their 
mighty plots of ambition — and too well to admit the 
supposition that they were under any great mistake 
about these things, as unsatisfied whether faith con- 
sisted in speaking or thinking, or whether it was any 
thing that followed choice or not. Their error was 
chiefly in point of morality. 

It seems, therefore, upon the whole matter, as if 
we might reasonably conclude, that those who suffer- 
ed martyrdom were more deluded in regard to faith, 
than the party which made martyrs. 



153 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

Whether there be any such thing 1 real in the world as a deter- 
minate opinion or belief of a thing 1 mysteries wherein divers 
persons unite. 

XN a former chapter we decided it not feasible to 
believe what is not understood nor distinctly con- 
ceived. If this be conclusive, I think we may lay it 
down as a settled theorem that no such thing as the 
actual belief of a thing incomprehensible, has place in 
the human mind. And that whatever may be said 
of maintaining mystical tenets and articles of faith, lit- 
tle else can be meant than professing to believe them 
or abetting those who advocate and hold them forth. 
A person may believe something when an enigmati- 
cal story is related to him : it may not be wholly so : 
it may contain particulars which, being adapted to the 
understanding, are capable of exciting faith. A neigh- 
bour comes afright and tells me he saw the body of his 
father who died twelve years ago, appear standing 
erect before him with pkcid mien, clad in a white 
robe, and, having enunciated a few pithy sentences of 
monition, vanished indescribably from view. The 
question is not whether I have any faith at all, or not; 
perhaps I have an instantaneous impression of accord- 
ance to something included in this insinuative and aw- 
ing presentment; but, whether it be possible that there lt<^ 
faith in this identical proposition, taking the terms in 
their true and full sense. For this, I can only say, in 
regard to myself, that I cannot have faith in it : and I 
contend, it is not possible that there be such faith, un- 
less the constitution and capacity of the human mind 
are essentially diversified in different individuals. 
For what is not cgnceived — what is not comprehend- 



154 

ed— cannot be believed. And it does not appear to be 
comprehensible that the identical man who lived 
twelve years ago, but then died, can rise up and speak. 
How can I believe that that animal life and power of 
speech, which were destroyed twelve years ago, now 
exist ? Surely such a thing cannot be, as belief of what 
is in itself miraculous or mysterious. 

It may sound odd to say there is no such thing in 
the world, when thousands confess it : this confessing 
is an idle, vague, and very uncouth use of words. In 
ten instances out of eleven of the declaration of faith, 
I believe none exists. Since men make so careless a 
use of words, and are led more by sounds than sense, 
something more is required than bare verbal profes- 
sion, to prove the existence of some opinions. 

If ten thousand men tell me they believe Jesus 
Christ went through the wall of a house without break- 
ing or removing any thing or wounding himself; that 
he turned water into wine, without moving or adding 
any thing to it ; that he rose up from the surface of 
the earth through our atmosphere without any visible 
help ; I give them not credit. I do not believe they 
actually have that faith in them, of which they make 
declaration. For it does not appear any howadmissi- 
sible to suppose there is actually such a posture of 
mind as belief in respect to a thing which is absolute- 
ly inconceivable — absolutely beyond the verge of our 
knowledge and of our apprehension, as is the case 
with things mysterious. 

Suppose vegetation is mysterious. What then ? — 
Vegetation may be called a miracle. It is no more 
but saying, vegetation which is a cause whereof we 
perceive the effects, is, itself, something which we do 
not perceive, and therefore is beyond our knowledge, 
is beyond our apprehension : i. e. as a species, or as 
a particular article. We may admit it is motion : but 
then what particular movements it consists of, is 
not known. We may believe a thing exists, which 



155 

is beyond our knowledge. For, not to allow there 
is something which we do not know, is to presume 
our knowledge is universal and extends as far as be- 
ing extends. But although we are beyond doubt such 
a thing as vegetation has place while yet we cannot see 
through it, this does not prove that a proposition sta- 
ting the process of vegetation in its actual steps which 
we cannot adequately conceive, is capable of being 
entertained with belief. 

The proposition — human understanding is very 
bounded, and there are probably things which men 
cannot conceive, is intelligible, and is a very different 
sort of proposition from one which goes to state parti- 
cular existences or circumstances in detail, which are 
inconceivable, and which therefore is not composed of 
our rational ideas, or what only we are capable of, — but 
of nothing but words idlv strained to signify what they 
cannot. We can believe such a statement as is com- 
petent to our apprehension ; as, such or such motion of 
such particles as we can conceive ; — but, when it comes 
to inconceivable particles, and the motion of inconceiv- 
able particles, we cannot believe. For notwithstand- 
ing we may believe the proposition which alleges 
something exists which we do not know and which we 
cannot distinctly conceive, (for such must be most of 
the universe,) yet still we are no more able to believe a 
proposition which affects particularly to state wherein 
any such thing consists. We can believe the proposi- 
tion that what w r e conceive to be particles of matter 
move in particular ways and degrees of motion ; — that 
is — conceivable particles move. But when the propo- 
sition imports a denial of these things, and is such as 
to allege that it cannot be this, but is something else be- 
yond and distinct from-this, it can scarcely be entertain- 
ed with belief. I cannot admit there is such faith in men, 
whatever they profess. Yet if vegetation is simply 
affirmed to be motion of particles of matter, with a 
consequent apposition and accretion of particles, — it is 



156 

all plain : this we can comprehend. Nothing is said 
about in conceivable things : here is nothing mysterious : 
and, according to this, vegetation is no mystery nor 
miracle at all. But what is not conceivable — what we 
have no conception of, can be no object of faith, because 
it is no object of the human understanding — and faith 
belongs to our understanding. So, in regard to the 
turning of water into wine ; we perceive wine in the 
vessel where, just before, we perceived was water. 
This we know. This is knowledge. We believe wine 
has been made. One way of making it, is to press the 
juice out of grapes. But that that which was water a 
few minutes ago in a vessel, is now wine, I think can- 
not be seriously maintained as an opinion. And if a 
million men say they believe water was turned or 
changed into wine, I must confess I believe they are 
hypocrites when they make the profession. 

Suppose the book of John the Evangelist is pro- 
pounded as a task or set of mysterious statements, to 
be believed. Is it possible for mankind to believe 
them ? or is there so huge a diversity of one mind from 
another in the same species of creatures, that what one 
cannot with the utmost stretch of his intellect, distinctly 
apprehend, another can believe ? Indeed great part of 
them are so unnatural and so repugnant to what we 
have otherwhere experienced of the course of things, 
that it seems impossible they can be believed, were it 
for no other reason but the contradictions with which 
they appear to abound, that they could be denied. How 
can I believe that John " saw four angels standing on 
the four corners of the earth, holding the four winds of 
the earth, that the winds should not blow on the earth 
nor upon any tree" ? 

To tell the plain truth, we hear talk of numerous 
opinions, which do not exist. There is not so much 
faith in the world as has been represented. Many aro 
those which profess faith, who if the truth were to be 
known, would be found destitute of that faith which 



157 

they profess. Though we hear of thousands Qn d tens 
of thousands suddenly coming to the faith or being; 
brought to the faith, being convinced and converted, 
and concurring in the belief of this or that theory ;— 
yet too often it is all but empty rumour, — built on mere 
verbal profession, and uncertain tokens, — profession of 
enthusiasts, ignorant persons, or hypocrites, where 
imagination is taken for faith, or formal declaration 
passes for it, — so that the reality shall scarcely be 
found. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

Of trivial propositions, which to believe or disbelieve, is useless. 

hOME opinions have consequence in our purposes 
ef life, and some have not. Faith, in regard to some 
matters, and the degree of it, is of important efficiency 
in some cases of our voluntary course ; in others, it is 
perfectly trivial, and produces no effect in the course of 
our determinations. Those propositions, of which 
neither the belief nor disbelief, faith nor want of faith, 
has any good or bad effect upon men's lives, may be 
called trivial propositions. Innumerable of this sort of 
propositions are daily written and spoken. A few ex- 
amples of which, are such as these : 

Id crow flew from an old pine tree, directly south 
two hundred rods, and alighted upon a birch. Ji 
laborer felling an ash, the topof it fell upon a brush- 
heap and frightened two quails lodging thereabouts, 
who tlweupon ran and hid themselves under a 
hedge. ' Jind Samlah died, and Saul of Rehobot/i 
by the river, reigned in his stead.' & farmer's dog, 
running along through a public town, stopped and 
tnade water against a maible statue of George 
14 






158 

Washington that stood near a gentleman's house. 
< ,2s Peter knocked at the door of the gate, a damsel 
came to hearken, named Rhoda.' ' When they had 
passed throughout Pisida, they came to Pamphytia.' 
* When they had preached the word in Perga, they 
went down into Jlttalia? These and a thousand 
others, is perfectly indifferent whether we believe or 
disbelieve. Perhaps they are readily believed, at the 
very first hearing. It may be for this very reason ; 
they do not appear to be of such weight as to require 
a moment's deliberation of a rational mind : such deli- 
beration might disclose contrary proofs, which are 
overlooked ; and the propositions are taken as granted. 
Moreover, waiving all other considerations, of evi- 
dence on one side or the other, we are more inclined 
to give assent to such statements, than to deny them. 
But after all, that assent has no effect in our active life. 
A man comes before me with information that an 
evil-minded person passing along the road, demolished 
a corn-crib at my farm-house in the country — and dis- 
appears. Before he has proceeded a hundred rods, he 
tacks about, runs directly back, and tells me he has 
forgot one thing — to wit, the man stood in the high- 
way on the east side of the crib and pushed it over 
westward towards the house. This is a trifling propo- 
sition. It is of no consequence to me whether I believe 
it or not. It alters not the nature of the deed, nor 
varies its effect. My friend, you might have saved 
yourself the trouble of coming back — All that was 
important, you related at first. So it is with the un- 
accountable manner of Christ's appearing to his disci- 
ples, and disappearing. When you tell me Christ 
made his appearance bodily to several of his disciples 
who were assembled together in a house ; made him- 
self known to them; communed with them ; ate and 
drank; and gave them instruction and advice; it is 
sufficient. And when you go on to state that while 
all the doors and windows were fast, he came direct 



; 



159 



through the wall of the house without breaking it or 
wounding himself, and without removing any thing ; 
and that he departed in like manner ; what you say is tri- 
fling: it is indifferent. The belief of it could have no use; 
— no visible utility. The same things may be said of 
all the enigmatical fantastic accompaniments of the 
most solemn intelligence ever delivered to mankind. 

If a man believes that Jesus Christ, instead of being 
half God and half man, engendered in a virgin, with- 
out father, was born in the natural way of all men, and 
therefore that some parts of his history were either 
erroneously translated, or else the circumstances of it 
were imperfectly noted and inaccurately stated at the 
beginning ; his opinion is as rational and as regular, 
and may have as important use with a view to the con- 
duct of his life or any of the purposes thereof, as if he 
swallowed all the minutia of the narrative as they stand 
recorded, and considered them without exception as 
solemn verities. Whereas those chimerical, unnatural, 
and incomprehensible positions, pretending his mysti- 
cal birth, and immaterial nature, are indifferent to be 
believed or disbelieved, in a moral point of view, 
even on the allowance of the supposition that the 
belief is physically possible. For he that believes 
Christ was a person who died to expiate the sins of the 
human race, by whose propitiation, all who ever lived 
or ever shall live, are placed on the same ground and 
on the same terms with respect to the divine arbiter 
of the moral world as if they never had sinned or never 
could sin, certainly will derive as much consolation 
from his persuasion, and experience the same effect to 
all intents and purposes of moral improvement, as one 
does who professes to believe Christ to have been 
an anomalous being, and that several things took place 
which he cannot apprehend. For of what service is 
the belief, if there can be such a belief, that some par- 
ticular casualties occurred which men cannot distinctly 
conceive, when they can derive the same consequences 



160 

to any part of their social life, from what is plain and 
comprehensible ? Any proposition whose use wholly 
terminates in the excitement of an emotion of mind, 
may be concluded in the rank of trivial propositions. — 
When any thing is said, to no better issue than the ex- 
citement of a temporary emotion, as wonder, surprise, 
or astonishment, we may pronounce it trifling. But If 
these emotions extend the causation to moral life, or 
affect corporal health, they vary its character. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

Of the importance cf protracting* our deliberations, in matters of 
mere probability. 

XF faith is the cause of determinations which draw 
after them consequences of great weight, good or evil, 
opinions evidently should not be taken up precipitately, 
and, without deliberate investigation, put as arguments, 
and motives to conduct. None will question the im- 
portance of deliberation, when any thing is proposed 
to us as matter of faith, which is likely to have a mate- 
rial effect on the estimate of the course we are to take, 
or upon the issue of any plans we may have in operation. 
Rashness at this conjuncture, has brought innumerable 
disasters upon human society. The first respect in 
which we are to examine a proposition with reference 
to the propriety of a practical adherence to it, is its use. 
This is the point where our deliberation is to begin. 
If it be altogether trivial and inconsequential, we need 
proceed no farther with it ; but lay by the consideration 
at once. Some things appear at first view to be impor- 
tant in their tendency, which upon examination are 
found to be trivial. Others again, in the first instance 
strike us as frivolous and unimportant matters, which, 
upon deliberate inspection, are afterwards discovered 



161 

io be important, and to involve a concern which is not 
conscientiously to be neglected. Of those which are 
evidently of moral Constance, about which the way 
our assent is settled is likely to tartfo q good or bad 
effect, such as appear to have a very small overbalance 
of probability demand a critical assize : for all the re- 
lations of the subject require to be developed, and per- 
haps very nice gradations of excess and deficiency of 
evidence are to be noted. Here is the main labor of 
jurors : the greatest nicety and most arduous part of 
their duty being to fix their decree according to the 
turn of the scale when to a cursory view the balance 
seems even, and there is apparently no excess of pro- 
bability on either side. Here they are liable to be 
carried back to a state of demur or doubt; and other- 
wise, if not scrupulously tenacious of integrity, to 
yield to passion or prejudice in their conclusion, while 
the perplexity of the case offers them so plausible a 
protection. 

When upon our conclusion with respect to any thing 
submitted to our consideration, depends an important 
turn of our destiny, affecting our friends, our neigh- 
bors, or our country, it is manifestly urgent to tho- 
roughly w r eigh the proofs and arguments that have a 
bearing one way or the other, to the final state of the 
apparent evidence which governs the determination of 
our will. Because, whether one believes or denies a 
proposition offered him, may be a question upon which 
immediately depends a determination that will affect 
another person's happiness or his own, either socially 
or individually considered. 

Nobody that takes faith to be an effect that corres- 
ponds exactly to probability, and this to be based on 
real habitudes of things, will question the importance 
of this deliberation upon the degrees of probability 
which are afforded on either side of a question that has 
the consequence of determining mankind upon any im- 
portant action. For if faith be acquiescing in a pro- 
14* 



162 

position on account of its probability when two opposite 
ones are proposed, both must be compared together 
in this respect, and the p^^ and circumstances that 
argue the truth ur falsehood of both the one and the 
other, laid as it were in a balance, in order to deter- 
mine where the preponderancy falls. For although w r e 
may doubt of two propositions at the same time, yet 
so high a degree of faith as belief cannot be conceded 
to one proposition without rejecting the contrary. The 
circumstances of the grounds of probability are the con- 
ditions upon which uncertain propositions are offered 
for the entertainment of a reasonable mind ; and he 
who blindly yields his acquiescence to, receives as un- 
questionable, and professes belief in, any proposition 
without attempting to ascertain the probability that 
belongs to it, or where the overbalance lies, is a mad- 
man if he takes the direction of his conduct from such 
principles. 

In deliberating upon what is proposed to be believed, 
we attend particularly to the grounds of the probability 
upon which a proposition is bottomed. The common 
and chief grounds of probability, are confwmily to our 
own experience, and testimony of others. First, we 
consider whether the proposition conforms or does not 
conform to our own experience. It may be wholly 
independent of testimony ;• may be suggested by our 
imagination, or read in an anonymous book. Yet it 
may be contrary to any thing we have observed or 
experienced in reality of things : and it may, on the 
other hand, be agreeable to what w r e have experienced. 
Whether it be accompanied by testimony or not, we 
compare it to this standard. Still, testimony has its 
weight according to circum stances. The circumstances 
to be considered, to determine the weight of testimony, 
are the number, the character, and the views, of 
avouchers. In proportion as these persons are more 
or less in number, are of greater or less reputation for 
veracity, and are more or less likely to have any par- 



163 

ticular oblique motive, bye end, or view of interest, in 
establishing the credit of what they offer, — the proba- 
bility of testimony is of greater or less degree, and 
accordingly is the faith ; provided the matter of the 
proposition does not, in its nature, revolt at our expe- 
rience, observation or reasoning. 

Several faculties of mind are called into exercise in 
that employment which I put under the general word 
deliberation, as applied to the conditions of a proposi- 
tion to be believed or disbelieved. Reason, that com- 
prehensive one which includes several particular knacks 
and powers of intellect, is employed about investiga- 
tions of probable truth, as well as in demonstration.* 

The parts of reasoning are four, — 1. Finding out 
intermediate ideas, or proofs, to shew the agreement 
or disagreement of those in question. 2. Laying them 
together in just order, so as readily to disclose then- 
agreement or disagreement one with another and with 
the extremes, or in othei words to make it easily 
perceivable. 3. Comparing them together to deter- 
mine the relations they have among themselves and 
with the extremes ;— and 4. Perceiving these relations 
of agreement or disagreement as they appear to be, 
(whether certain or presumable) and deducing the con- 
clusion, that the principal ideas, or two extremes, have 
this agreement or disagreement, as resulting from the 
agreement or disagreement of the intervening ones each 

with other, and, conformably, with the extremes. 

These comprise the exercises, attention, study, com- 
paring, discerning. Now, all this may be done upon a 
question of mere probable truth where we cannot pre- 
sume to reach any certainty, as well as in cases which 
admit of demonstration. A man may search out and 
get together a parcel of proofs, orideas, which though 
they can never shew demonstratively the thing in 
question, may make it more or less probable and likely 
to be so : that is, they may increase the evidence or 
likelihood of the agreement or disagreement of the ideas 



164 

proposed, at the same time they bring no intuition of it, 
and thus may fix his assent at a greater or less degree of 
faith in the entertainment of a proposition,— which, 
though not stipulated as an object of knowledge, but 
onlyoi faith, he may guess, believe, or have assurance 
of, according to the articles of proof he finds out and col- 
lects. Theexpedients used for the discovery of proofs 
and means of deciding a question, are, recollection, 
reading, observation, study, and conversation. The 
greater the opportunity we have for these recourses, 
and the more patience in improving the opportunity 
we have, the better we are prepared for the concludent 
attachment of our assent,— the more accurate our opini- 
ons. It is a duty to protract deliberation on important 
matters, and not rashly bring it to a termination, through 
indolence or passionateness. Faith itself is not a duty, 
though in some instances it may be the effect of a duty. 
The credulous and the enthusiast, do not deliberate, 
nor diligently search for truth ; but take for granted 
what they hear, or what strongly affects them.— The 
prudent man reflects, and ponders well the conditions 
»)£ what is stated as an object of his faith. 



CHAPTER XXVL 

Conclusion. 



W^HEN we take a survey of the different socie- 
ties of men in the civilized world, and observe the pro- 
ceedings they have in their several religious schools, we 
have grounds to conclude that although man is possessed 
of a power of reasoning to a much greater degree and 
extent than any other being with which we are ac- 
quainted, yet he, in gome respects, is the most unrea- 



165 

sonable creature in the world. For, to act contrary 
to the dictates of reason, is the more unreasonable in 
proportion to the degree of reason with which the agent 
is endued. One of the most remarkable traits in his 
character, wherein he is notoriously capricious, is the 
use he makes of allusive ceremonies. He preaches up 
the professing of a tenet as a duty : — he fancies himself 
under bonds to pay compliments to an invisible incom- 
prehensible being — He substitutes this for social virtue 
— He presses upon individuals the voting of concession 
and support to a catalogue of articles of faith, as a con- 
dition of society — He exacts it as a political duty. 
Hence national churches have been instituted, to drill 
uncultivated millions to the monkey tricks of idola- 
trous superstition. Hence popes and cardinals have 
lifted their hydra crests, in the face of truth and com- 
mon sense, to hurl the bolts of defiance at the genius of 
human freedom — Hence kings and emperors have sent 
forth their hideous hordes of infuriate barbarians and 
phrenzied dupes of legendary delusion — desolating the 
fields of domestic peace, blasting the mellifluous exu- 
berance of the teeming earth, to exterminate from the 
living all who dare expose their impious impositions 
upon human understanding, — that there may remain 
no energy of genius — that there may be no expansion 
of knowledge beyond their narrow prescriptions. But 
in vain do they limit the efforts of mind. In vain do 
they set bounds to human investigation. The zealots 
for these political establishments, exact a profession of 
a prescribed faith. But faith being an incident of men's 
inward thoughts, which, in the individual where it 
exists, is a secret physically excluded from the aspec- 
tion of another ; they must as rational creatures, be 
sensible they are liable to he deceived about it. It is 
compliance and favor they want ; and the profession, 
only as an indication of them. But, this they are not 
likely to be satisfied with, unless it appears so sincere 
that they can take it as a sure sign, proving beyond 






166 

doubt their disposition to advocate and follow a party 
which distinguishes itself by that profession of faith. 

A man's own faith has use in his own conduct ; but 
another's faith seldom has. If it be ever so useful, it 
cannot be known to him : he cannot have certainty of 
it. To advocate and support a man because he proba- 
bly has faith to believe a given sort of doctrine, or pro- 
fesses that faith for no other reason but his believing 
or professing to believe that doctrine, — or even for his 
making a practice to preach and hold forth that doctrine, 
is not a virtue ; and is no part of the moral duty of a 
rational being. 

Faith is not voluntary ; it is not obligatory. Faith 
is no duty ; is no virtue ; neither is the want of it a vice. 
Faith cannot exist where is no distinct conception of 
the things in question. Since it has for its object the 
probable agreement or disgreement of ideas which can- 
not be brought into juxtaposition, nor be applied to 
any others that shall exactly quadrate so as to shew the 
certainty of such habitude, it is conclusive that these 
ideas must be distinctly apprehended ; otherwise there 
is plain contradiction, and there are no ideas at all. For, 
an idea is^an object of the understanding : and where is 
no object of the understanding, is no idea. And, fur- 
thermore, where no ideas are, is no appearance of the 
agreement or disagreement of ideas, either certain or 
probable. — Also, a man is not likely to suffer any evil 
consequence as an instituted punishment for the lack of 
faith in any particular instance of remote and uncon- 
trollable things. But one may be in fault for not duly 
considering a matter, and deciding the exact weight 
belonging to the evidence on that side of a question 
where he enlists ; it being a duty to search after truth ; 
and this, to be done successfully, should be done freely. 

The accruing of assent or the settling of the mind in 
this posture, is liable to be secondarily influenced by 
passion, according to the degree of emotion prevailing 
to agitate the system, rendering the apparent evidence 



167 

different from what it would be ; through a neglect of 
mature and deliberate prepension. — We find bad effects 
have arisen from this influence as well as from a distor- 
tive construction of faith. Faith has use, in some cases ; 
and in some, it has not. Faith is of daily use in human 
life ; yet there are some propositions, which whether 
we believe or disbelieve, is im moment. Faith, too, may 
be perverted to very bad purposes. A wrong applica- 
tion of it is productive of mischievous effects. Profes- 
sion is often fallacious. It is folly to be over inquisi- 
tive of another's faith : it is madness to demand the 
disclosure of it, under threats. To destroy life or 
health on its account, is inhuman. — For the purpose of 
preserving life, is justifiable to belie one's faith to mad- 
men and infuriate fanatics, — as to illude delirious per- 
sons and robbers. We may reasonably presume there 
are not so many different opinions in the world as re- 
presented ; and that the diversity of professions is 
greater than that of persuasions : since it is not easy to 
conceive a settled belief of any thing that in itself is 
altogether beyond the understanding. 

If- these things be so, how manifestly conclusive 
is it, that faith cannot be substituted for justice or bene- 
ficence ! How preposterous is such substitution ? 

Too long has faith been fictitiously linked with be- 
nignity — Too long has faith been ranked in the train 
of the virtues — Too long has virtue been reputed a 
necessary and legitimate dependent of faith. This is 
altogether nominal. It is illusory. It is time to dis- 
involve it from this sophistical complexure ; and to 
deduce virtue from its true principles. Virtue flows 
from reasoning, from deliberation, from action. Men 
reason on the tendencies of actions; deliberate on 
what is proper to do ; and act. By practising what 
is good, virtue becomes habitual, whether speculative 
or active. 

Consider, then, my fellow-mortals, the folly and 
confusion of those communications which make so 






168 

much noise about the saving nature of faith — its effica- 
cy to produce love, and the arts of peace. Separate 
faith from virtue. Learn virtue by its only process. 
Cease to do evil and learn to do well. Be not divert- 
ed from the track of your proper duty, and the way of 
your improvement in all excellence, by vague and de- 
luding sounds purporting to attach to indifferent things 
undue importance. Consider the distinct natures of 
things of which men are apt to discourse ; and the 
proper import of the words they use to designate 
them. Pursue truth for the love of truth. Turn from 
sounds to things. Practise that which is good for its 
intrinsic excellence, and the reward which the con- 
sciousness of it carries with it. Undo the heavy bur- 
dens-— -bring to your houses the poor that are cast out 
— entertain strangers — relieve the distressed — console 
the afflicted — clothe the naked — feed the hungry — em- 
ploy the idle — instruct the ignorant — be obedient to 
just government for conscience' sake — deliberately pro- 
mise, but perform your engagements — be constant and 
sympathetic towards all such as have reposed confi- 
dence in you, and placed reliance on your integrity — 
Promptly promote every benevolent design ; and en- 
courage whatever conduces to meliorate the condition 
of the human race — for these things constitute the 
true religion, and that which is " pure and undefiled 
before God." All which, depend more upon reason 
than upon faith. 

FIXIS. 



ERRATA. 

Page 29 — bottom line, for ' acquiescence s' read acquiescence. 
30 — line 7 from the bottom, for * casses' read cases. 
44 — line 12 from bottom, for 'ultraneous' read ultroneous, 
48 — line 6 from bottom, for * your' read you. 
51 — head of the chap, after * virtue' insert or 
71 — line 3 from bottom, for * if be' read if it be. 
78 — line 2 from bottom, for * this' read their. 
1.53— line 8 from bottom, for ' there' read there be. 



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